


Brave as a Noun

by SKBones



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action & Romance, Canon Compliant, F/M, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Order of the Phoenix (Harry Potter), Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:08:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 60,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27440083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SKBones/pseuds/SKBones
Summary: Remus intrigued her inexplicably. He seemed so proper, so professional, and yet she couldn’t help but remember the way he had blushed so furiously when she’d suggested they pretend to be on a date, and the way his eyes had twinkled mischievously at her stupid librarian joke. He was an enigma, a man encased in a mystery, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it.One late June evening, Tonks attends the first meeting of the newly reformed Order of the Phoenix. In the dark, damp kitchen of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, she meets Remus Lupin. They are partnered up for a reconnaissance mission, and so begins a journey which will turn Tonks' life upside down.Or, The Order of the Phoenix, told from the perspective of one Nymphadora Tonks.
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Nymphadora Tonks
Comments: 148
Kudos: 171





	1. In the Hidden Places

“Sir, please, I need to talk to you!” 

Tonks had chased Rufus Scrimgeour through almost five departments before finally catching up with him. He didn’t seem particularly impressed to see her. His face was set; his mouth a hard, unwavering line, and Tonks was fairly sure he had been pretending not to hear her for the last three or four corridors. 

“I’m very busy, Nymphadora.” He said, and Tonks rolled her eyes impatiently.

“I _know_ ,” She hissed, her jaw clenched, “but this is important.”

Scrimgeour was still walking and hadn’t slowed his pace. Tonks was practically jogging to keep up with him, despite his rangy, lopsided gait.

“Go on, then.” Scrimgeour said, finally slowing so that Tonks could walk next to him.

She noticed that Kingsley Shacklebolt had appeared at the end of the corridor, and was nonchalantly readjusting his robes, folding his collar carefully and smoothing it with a large, strong hand. Tonks turned to look up at Scrimgeour. She had hoped for a bit more privacy, maybe some time to prepare what she was going to say, but it looked like this was the best chance she would get. She took a deep breath.

“Sir, I think Harry Potter might be telling the truth.” She said.

Scrimgeour didn’t immediately react. He was looking straight ahead, apparently watching Shacklebolt, who was now stood with a tall, ginger-haired wizard Tonks recognised as Arthur Weasley. Then, quite suddenly, Scrimgeour stopped walking and rounded on her.

“Have you ever met Harry Potter?” He said, sternly.

“Er, no,” Tonks replied.

“And are you currently assigned to investigate Potter, or the events of the Triwizard Tournament?”

“No, sir,"  
  
“Then I would ask you not to interfere into matters that you do not understand.” His voice was firm, and Tonks could tell that he was trying extremely hard to control his temper.

He turned around again, but before he could stride away, Tonks said, “ _Please,_ sir, just listen to me! I’ve looked into it, and I really think-”

“Be very careful how you finish that sentence, Nymphadora.” He said, and his voice was icy now, yellow eyes boring into hers. “The boy is lying. Anyone showing him support is at risk of undermining our entire purpose in this department, do you understand?” He didn’t give her a chance to reply before adding brusquely, “Get back to work.”

Tonks watched him as he strode away from her. He nodded curtly at Kingsley and Arthur Weasley, turned the corner, and was gone. 

Tonks sighed and turned on the spot. It had been four days since the last task of the Triwizard Tournament, four days since Harry Potter had claimed Lord Voldemort had returned, and, for Tonks, four days of running around the Ministry, trying to work out exactly what had happened and piece together the evidence. She was now convinced, after having slept only four hours out of the last 48, that Potter was telling the truth. But everyone she’d tried to talk to had either dismissed her irritably, threatened to have her dismissed from her post, or, worst of all, laughed in her face. She might work for the Ministry, and call Scrimgeour her boss, but she felt no particular duty to either of them if they were going to be so _stupid._

“Twat.” Tonks muttered under her breath, starting back up the corridor.

“Tonks, might I have a word?” 

Tonks turned, her stomach lurching uncomfortably, and saw Kingsley. He looked quite placid, though she was sure he must have heard her whispered insult.

“I’ve got a meeting with Dawlish at three, but until then I’m free.” She said, trying to sound unconcerned.

They walked along in companionable silence, heading towards Kingsley’s office. Tonks kept risking small glances at him, but he didn’t look angry, or stern; in fact, he looked rather cheerful. 

_Hopefully not going to fire me for calling Scrimgeour a twat, then, s_ he thought as they entered his office.

Kingsley closed the door behind them and offered Tonks a seat. When she had taken it, he rounded the desk and sat opposite her. They stared at each other for several moments, then Kingsley said, “This is a… delicate matter.” He seemed to choose the word very carefully, and he watched Tonks for her reaction.

“Right…” She replied, “Am I in trouble?”

Kingsley shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” He paused, folding his hands on the desk and dropping his voice to barely a whisper, “I’m going to be quite plain with you, Tonks. Potter is telling the truth. Four days ago, during the last task of the Triwizard Tournament, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named returned, as  –  I believe – you have already realised. If you are willing, you could play a crucial role in the war that is surely coming. The-”  
“I’ll do it.” Tonks interrupted, leaning forward in her seat.

“I haven’t told you what you’d be doing, yet.” Kingsley said, but she could tell that he was having to try hard to keep his expression stern.

“I don’t care. If there’s something I can do to help, I want in.” 

Tonks could feel her heart slamming against her ribs. She was gripping the armrests on the rickety chair so hard that her knuckles were white. You-Know-Who was back. Finally, _finally,_ someone was telling her what she had known to be true for the last week. She hadn’t expected it to be Kingsley; he had carefully ignored her when she’d cornered him and Proudfoot a few days ago, desperate to discuss the odd speech Fudge had given that morning that seemed to suggest Harry Potter had been confunded.

“Okay,” Kingsley said now, his voice dropping even lower so that Tonks had to slide to the very edge of her chair to hear him. “If you’re serious, meet me on the South side of Westminster Bridge at 6. Do not tell _anyone_ what you are doing.” 

Kingsley leaned back, cleared his throat, and turned in his chair to lift a large pile of parchment off of the filing cabinet behind him. “Now, Auror Tonks. I need you to look through these cases, and pull out any that you think might be connected to the recent Battersea Boggart cases.” His voice was back to its usual timbre, and, with a wry smile, he handed Tonks the papers and gestured to the door. “By the end of the day, please.”

Tonks left Kingsley’s office in a kind of daze. She returned to the office she shared with Proudfoot, her heading buzzing with questions. On the way in she knocked a Sneakoscope off of a shelf, which in turn sent a pile of _Witch Weekly_ magazines tumbling onto the floor. By the time she had cleared up the office and sorted through the cases for Kingsley it was 3 o’clock, and she dashed off for her meeting with Dawlish.

It was raining when Tonks left the Ministry a few hours later. Her meeting with Dawlish had dragged on for almost three hours, so she decided to walk over the bridge, letting the cooling rain soak her. As always, it was busy; Muggles dashing about on their way home from work. Several of them gave Tonks rather odd looks as she strode through the damp streets, rain running down her cheeks and plastering her pink fringe to her forehead. She shivered a little as she reached the South side of the bridge, looking out for Kingsley, spotting him leaning against the South Bank Lion statue.As she drew level with him, he stepped behind the stone plinth and she followed, knowing what to expect. She gripped his arm, turned on the spot, and together they apparated, Kingsley guiding her.

They appeared on a long street. Tonks was fairly sure that they were still in London; the houses facing them were classic London townhouses, three stories high with Georgian windows and semi-basements framed by wrought iron fences. Kingsley had pulled a scrap of parchment from the pocket of his robe.

“Read it and remember it,” He said, holding it out to her.

“Where are we?” Tonks asked, ignoring the parchment and looking up and down the street.

“You can ask questions later. We need to get inside.” He pointed at the parchment again and, reluctantly, Tonks read the words ‘ _The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place’_ in neat, slanted handwriting.

“What the hell is the Or-” She began to ask, but Kingsley interrupted her, pointing at the two houses they were closest to and saying, “Questions, later! Concentrate on those words.”

Tonks sighed and thought hard about what she had read. Quite suddenly, with a rumbling, scraping sound, the two houses Kingsley had pointed at began to move apart. From between them Tonks saw a dark doorway appear, followed by a grubby front window. Rows of brown bricks settled themselves in place, and – with a last rumbling groan – a whole house had squeezed itself out of the darkness.

“Woah,” Tonks breathed, as Kingsley started towards the house, beckoning her to follow him. 

They took the steps two at a time, and, reaching the front door, Kingsley gripped the brass handle, tapped his wand twice against the scratched wood and pushed it open. 

When they stepped inside, Tonks thought she had entered some kind of dungeon. It was pitch black, and when the door closed behind Kingsley she couldn’t even see her own hand in front of her face.

“Lumos,” Kingsley whispered, igniting the tip of his wand.

Tonks did the same, holding her wand away from her to illuminate the seemingly impenetrable darkness. They were in a narrow hallway. On one side of her, Tonks could make out a tall staircase which in a past life had perhaps looked rather elegant, but now looked worn and dusty, with several splintered railings in the bannister. She looked suspiciously at Kingsley.

“Where the hell are we?!” She hissed at him.

“Keep your voice down!” He whispered back, adding when she opened her mouth to argue, “I’ll explain when we get into the kitchen.”

They tiptoed up the passageway. With every step Tonks could make out a little more of their surroundings. The place really was _filthy._ Old paintings hung lopsided on the walls, long trails of cobwebs strung between them like overdone halloween decorations. In several places there were suspicious stains which looked, Tonks thought ominously, like dried blood. She was beginning to think that perhaps this was a trap, that Kingsley had led her into this place as some kind of sick punishment for calling Scrimgeour a twat, or for telling him that she believed Harry Potter. Once again, her heart was slamming against her ribs, but this time it was fear, not excitement. Then, quite suddenly, the door at the end of the hallway opened, and there stood Albus Dumbledore, smiling serenely and haloed by a pool of yellow light.

“Kingsley, nice to see you,” He said warmly, shaking the Auror’s hand and moving back to allow him into the kitchen. “And you’ve brought Tonks. What a pleasant surprise. Please, come in, come in.”

Tonks was shocked to see her old Headmaster stood there, bracketed in the doorway of possibly the grimmest house she had ever been in. She gave him a nervous smile as she slipped past him, almost falling head first down the steps into the kitchen. Dumbledore put out a surprisingly strong arm to steady her, and she grabbed it gratefully, negotiating the last step down onto the cobblestone floor.

If the hallway had been dirty, then the kitchen was something else entirely. It looked as though it hadn’t been used for a century. Dust three or four inches thick lined every shelf and countertop. There were rusting pots and broken pans stacked high in the sink, and the two large cupboards at the end of the room were overflowing with rags and fraying tablecloths. The only part of the room that looked usable was the long, dark table in the centre. It had been hastily scrubbed and twelve mismatched chairs were around it, five of them already occupied. Tonks immediately recognised Arthur Weasley, who was sat halfway down the table. At the far end was a tall man she didn’t know. He was handsome, in a rather rough sort of way; his face was crossed with thin, faded scars and his hair was greying at the temples. He was wearing a plain shirt, sleeves rolled down to his wrists, and was deep in conversation with another man. This man, Tonks realised with a sudden, horrifying jolt, she knew. His face was far more filled out than in the pictures she had seen of him, and his hair was neater and shorter, but there was no mistaking who it was. Sirius Black.

She looked wildly around. Dumbledore and Kingsley were talking quietly, entirely unconcerned that the most dangerous convict in the wizarding world was just a few yards from them. Kingsley noticed her panic and stepped towards her.

“Ah,” He said, looking from Tonks to Black. “I probably should have said before; Sirius Black is not who you think he is.”

Tonks blinked at him, dumbfounded. Dumbledore cleared his throat and she turned to look at him.  
“Tonks, I don’t believe you have met Sirius Black before?” Dumbledore said, softly, a glint of something that looked like mischief in his bright blue eyes.

“I- er-” Tonks stuttered.

“I think you should perhaps sit down.” Dumbledore said gently, pulling out a chair with a flick of his wand. She sank into it immediately, her legs wobbling. Dumbledore took the seat next to her.

“I think some introductions are in order,” He said, smiling gently and looking up the table.

Sirius Black and the man to whom he was talking fell silent immediately. Arthur and Kingsley sat down, taking the chairs along from Dumbledore.

“Sirius, Remus, this is Nyphmadora Tonks. She is a highly accomplished Auror who works with Kingsley.” 

Tonks felt her cheeks burn red as everyone in the room turned to look at her. She grimaced.

“Wotcher.” She said, glancing first at Sirius Black, and than at the man Dumbledore had called Remus. He offered her a warm smile, which she tried to return.

“Tonks, this is Remus Lupin, former Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, and Sirius Black, your cousin, whom, I fear, you have heard a great many stories about, few of them true.”

Sirius, who had leaned back in his chair nonchalantly while Dumbledore was speaking, let out a great bark of laughter.  
Dumbledore continued, quite seriously, “Sirius is innocent of the murders for which he was convicted. Kingsley has been helping to keep the Ministry off his scent, so to speak, and ensure that he is not imprisoned again. The full story, as I am sure you can imagine, is rather complicated.”

In all, it took almost three-quarters of an hour for Dumbledore to explain, very patiently, exactly how it was that Sirius Black was innocent. Tonks sat and listened, occasionally interrupting to ask a question, which either Dumbledore or Sirius himself answered. When the whole story had been told, Tonks let out a long, low whistle.

“That’s proper mad, that is.” She said, looking from Dumbledore to Sirius and back. 

“You’re telling me,” Sirius replied darkly, “And you haven’t even heard the half of it.”

“Another time, perhaps.” Dumbledore said, and Tonks could tell that by this, he meant for the conversation to end. “The others will be arriving soon. There is much that we need to discuss.”

When the others had arrived, and they had all squeezed into the long, narrow kitchen, Dumbledore called the meeting to order. Tonks had given her seat up for Dedalus Diggle and so found herself perched on a grubby china cabinet. Bill Weasley, whom she recognised from school, was on the other side of the cabinet, with everyone else gathered around the table on chairs.  
“I want to start by thanking everyone for coming tonight,” Dumbledore began, standing up from his seat so that he dominated the room. “I do not wish to sugar-coat the extremely serious circumstances we face at this present time, and so I will put this quite bluntly. Lord Voldemort has returned. His resurgence marks the start of a period of great turmoil in the wizarding world. We can be sure that his first actions will be to recruit both old followers and new; in fact, I am sure he has already begun to do so. Now, some of you were part of the old Order of the Phoenix, and so are aware of our purpose. For those of you who are new, however, let me give a brief overview. The Order of the Phoenix was set up during the last war, and its aim has always been to oppose Voldemort and his death eaters. Previously, we worked with the Ministry, but, as some of you have probably deciphered from Fudge’s less than… _satisfactory_ response to the events of the last week,” Here, Dumbledore’s eyes flashed with anger, “it can be assumed that this time around, we will not have that support.”  
There was a rumble of conversation at this. Arthur Weasley, who was sat in front of Tonks, his bald patch shining with the light of the overhead chandelier, tutted loudly. Dumbledore raised a hand, and silence fell immediately. Tonks had never really spent much time around her former Headmaster. At school she had seen him only in the Great Hall, or during large gatherings. She was sure she had never been in a room with him alone before, or even with as few people as were currently surrounding her. He had such a commanding presence that Tonks couldn’t help but feel slightly awed. 

“Now,” Dumbledore said, suddenly extremely serious, “there are several matters which must be arranged immediately. We will need to organise a twenty-four hour guard to watch over Harry when he returns to the Dursleys in a few days. We will devise a rota to ensure the shifts are evenly balanced. There are also more… _delicate_ tasks which need to be undertaken. I think it wise to begin tracking and following specific Death Eaters. While Severus has been able to give us much information on Lord Voldemort’s immediate plans, it would not hurt to ensure that we are able to detect any unusual behaviours, intercept meetings, and generally keep an eye out. For this, I think it best that we work in pairs. I have a list, here,” Dumbledore pulled out a roll of parchment from a pocket in his robes, “of pairs who will work together on these tasks."  
Tonks assumed immediately that she would be paired with Kingsley. It made sense; they already worked together, so their schedules wouldn’t clash. They got along fairly well, too. But when Dumbledore read Kingsley’s name, he was paired with Elphias Doge. Arthur and Bill were put together, then Minerva and Hestia, Alastor and Mundungus, Molly and Dedalus, Sturgis and Emmeline. Which left…

“Nymphadora, you will be with Remus,” Dumbledore said, giving her a small smile and indicating Remus, who nodded at her. “I have tried to ensure that those of you who work for the Ministry are paired with those who do not. This will ensure that, should you have to undertake any duties on Ministry grounds, you will have something of an alibi.”

The rest of the meeting passed in much the same way. Dumbledore spoke for more than an hour. Tonks leant against the wall, her attention unwaveringly focused on Dumbledore’s words. The anger and confusion she had been feeling over the last week was giving way to something new as she listened. She felt empowered, and determined. When she and Remus were instructed to track a pair of Death Eaters who were presumed to be meeting a foreign correspondent in a few nights’ time in the Hog’s Head, a bubble of exhilaration swelled in her chest. 

“You need to ensure that your cover stories are agreed before you undertake any tasks,” Dumbledore said soberly to the room as the meeting drew to a close, “Arthur, Bill; those of you who are already well acquainted, this shouldn’t be a problem, but there must be no cause for suspicion, or speculation about what it is you are doing when you are out. The Order is, at its heart, a secret organisation. The Ministry is on the highest alert for any signs that I may be raising an opposition to Fudge’s leadership. We must not give them an excuse to hamper our efforts further than they already have.”

Tonks looked across at Remus, to find him already studying her. He looked away quickly, a slight blush rising in his otherwise pallid face. She suppressed a smile. She remembered now that she did know of Remus Lupin. She had heard the name, a few years ago, from the younger brother of one of her school friends. The kid had described Lupin as the best teacher he’d ever had, and then Tonks’ friend had told her that the teacher was a werewolf, and that he’d been forced to leave. At the time Tonks had been shocked, troubled even. But now, as she watched Lupin gently move Sirius’s mug away from his wildly gesticulating hands lest he spill his tea, she berated herself for her early judgement. It was clear that Dumbledore trusted Lupin, and from her interaction with him – which admittedly had thus far only consisted of the briefest of introductions – he seemed like a decent man. 

With the meeting over, everyone began talking amongst themselves. Tonks heard Kingsley patiently explaining to Elphias Doge that he was not an author, but an auror. Tonks smirked at Kingsley as she squeezed past them, moving out of the throng of bodies and towards Remus, who was still sat at the table, apparently lost in thought.

“Wotcher,” She said, sliding into the vacant chair next to him.

“Hello, Nymphadora,” He said politely, snapping out of whatever thoughts he had been lost in.

Tonks made a face and Lupin chuckled.

“You don’t like your name?” He asked, and she let out a huff of laughter.

“Would you like it if your parents had saddled you with a name as ridiculous as _Nymphadora_?” She said, then, before he could answer, added, “Everyone calls me Tonks.”  
“Tonks it is.” Remus conceded, folding his hands together on the table in front of him.  
“So, it looks like we’ve been partnered up, eh?” Tonks said conversationally, and Remus nodded.

“It would certainly appear so.”  
“We should start to think of a cover story, y’know, for our first ‘mission’ next week.” Tonks said keenly, realising immediately how childish she sounded. 

Remus had been part of the First Order, Dumbledore had revealed during the meeting, and now here she was, embarrassing herself. It didn’t help that this close to him, Tonks could see the flecks of green in Remus’s eyes, and smell the faint scent of Earl Grey that seemed to be clinging to his shirt. 

“We should,” Remus agreed, and to her relief he didn’t seem irritated or snarky. His face was unreadable. “I suppose I could be your…”

“Date,” Tonks said, exactly as Remus said, “Informant.”

They looked at each other for a moment.

“Your date?!” Remus spluttered, as Tonks began giggling. “Don’t be absurd.”

“Oh, come on, my _informant_?!” Tonks wheezed, “Informing me of what - the library opening hours?”

Remus looked as though he wanted to laugh. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly, then his face became quite serious again. 

“I- I don’t know if anyone told you. I’m a werewolf.” He said, resignation painting his features.

“Oh, yeah, uh. I knew that, actually.” 

Once again, Tonks felt a pang of guilt at how she had first reacted to this news, before she had met Remus. She realised now why her friend’s brother had said Remus was his favourite teacher. He exuded a calm clarity, and she was sure he would indeed be an excellent teacher.

“So, I could be an inside man. Informing you of werewolf-related crime and such.” Remus went on.

“Not really my area,” Tonks said, shaking her head. “Also, what’s absurd about you being my date? We’re going to a pub, aren’t we? Classic first date territory, that is.”

Remus’s eyebrows knotted together and he shook his head firmly. “No, I can’t expect you to pretend- to act like that.”

“Oh, come on, it’s no big deal.”  
“It’s not believable. I’m much older than you, for a start.”  
“We’re both adults, Remus, and it’s only a cover story. It’s not like we’re going to _do_ anything,”

At this, Remus’s face flushed red. Tonks laughed, running a hand through her hair.

“Okay, not a first date,” She conceded, drumming her fingers on the table as she considered. “Just friends, then? Meeting for a drink. Could say we met when you were teaching at Hogwarts. I did some of my training in Hogsmead.”

“That would be more believable.” Remus said, looking relieved.

Inwardly, Tonks wondered why he found the idea of pretending to date her so off-putting. Did he think she was hideous? Did he think she was too childish, that she wasn’t taking the situation seriously enough? She studied his face as he traced a long finger along a crack in the table, but his expression was unreadable.

“Right,” Tonks said, and he moved his eyes from the table back to her face. “So, we’ll meet at seven outside the Hogs Head on Monday?”

“That sounds fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	2. Vanishing Act

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Tonks was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Remus. Although he still seemed slightly distant, as though he didn’t want to give too much about himself away, he was quick to laugh and seemed genuinely interested in listening to what she had to say._
> 
> Tonks and Remus meet at the Hog's Head to spy on a meeting between Macnair and Carrow. When the pair leave, they follow them, making several discoveries down a dark and rather dingy alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to put a quick note to say that I don't own any of these characters (obviously, because I'd have treated them a lot better).  
> Also, trans rights are human rights.

The next few days passed quickly. Tonks felt as though a heavy weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Her induction into the order had given her a renewed sense of purpose, despite the obvious dangers and challenges it presented. 

It still hadn’t entirely sunk in that it was all really happening, she realised musingly on Monday evening, letting herself into her flat after work. You-Know-Who was back. There was going to be a war, and she was a small, indisputable part of it. Tonks had been nine at the end of the last war, and she only had vague, unclear memories of it: her parents having tense discussions; visitors bringing bad news late at night; dark Daily Prophet stories. Mostly, the First War was a story that she had been told when she was older, by burly Seventh Years at school, and in whispered discussions she had sometimes overheard between her mother and father.

Tonks checked her watch as she dumped her work bag onto the bed and toed off her boots. It was ten past six. She had just under an hour before she was due to meet Remus outside the Hog’s Head, for their definitely-not-a-date reconnaissance mission. Humming tunelessly to herself, Tonks opened her wardrobe and began riffling through her clothes. She pulled out a black top and a pair of dark jeans, tossing them onto her bed haphazardly. 

As she pulled off her work robes she caught sight of herself in the grubby mirror opposite her bed. Her hair was a light, dirty brown, its natural colour, her face and body unmorphed. She stood square on to the mirror, examining her long, thin legs, and sharp collar bones. She wondered absent-mindedly what Remus would think of her body, and felt heat creep up her neck before the thought had even fully passed in her mind. 

He intrigued her inexplicably. He seemed so _proper,_ so professional, and yet she couldn’t help but remember the way he had blushed so furiously when she’d suggested they pretend to be on a date, and the way his eyes had twinkled mischievously at her stupid librarian joke. He was an enigma, a man encased in a mystery, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. 

Tonks finished dressing and tried to have a quick tidy of her tiny flat. It was a studio, with everything crammed into one room, including a small kitchen and a lumpy double bed that she’d had since she was sixteen. In the corner was a battered door that led to the bathroom. She reorganised her work books with a flick of her wand, sending pieces of paper scattering across the floor. In trying to clean up the kitchen she knocked a glass with her elbow, sending it to the floor with a familiar smash.

“Fuck’s sake!” Tonks hissed under her breath, conjuring a dust pan and brush to clear away the sharp shards. “Every bloody time.” 

By the time she’d got all the glass up off of the floor, it was ten to seven and time to leave. She locked her door with a tap of her wand and made her way down the steps, into the street and outside of the anti-apparition charm. She turned on the spot, gasped in a last breath, and disapparated, reappearing in the familiar Hogsmeade high street. 

The street was fairly empty. There was a group of teenage boys outside Zonkos, jeering each other and laughing loudly, and a pair of elderly witches perched on a bench opposite Gladrags Wizardwear, deep in conversation. _Tourists_ , Tonks thought, setting off towards the end of the street, where the road curved away and led down to the Hog’s Head. 

She assumed that Remus would be waiting for her, taking him for the type who would be chronically early to every meeting, and was not disappointed. He was stood a little away from the door of the pub, dressed in a pair of brown trousers and a neat, white shirt. His hair was pulled back from his face, and Tonks was struck quite suddenly by how arresting he was to look at. In the cramped, dank kitchen of Grimmauld Place she hadn’t noticed how tall he was, or how broad his shoulders were. His face was turned away from her, but the strong line of his neck and jaw was illuminated by the evening sunlight.

_Fucking hell,_ Tonks thought as she continued along the uneven street, _I’ve got a bloody crush on him._

When she was a few yards from him, he turned and saw her. He smiled, warmly, and Tonks smiled back, not looking where she was putting her feet. Stumbling, she tripped on the edge of a cobblestone, turning her ankle over and sending her sprawling. She grabbed at the only solid thing in her reach - which happened to be Remus, who had lurched forward as she’d tripped. She caught him around the neck, and felt one strong hand holding her upper arm, the other catching her by the waist.

“Sorry!” Tonks said, righting herself and releasing her arms from his neck, “God, I’m so sorry! I’m so fucking clumsy!”

“You okay?” Remus asked.

He had let go of her but kept one hand outstretched, as though he was worried she would fall again.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to grab you like that,” Tonks said, circling her ankle to check it wasn’t seriously hurt. “No lasting damage. I’m just really clumsy, as you’ve probably noticed.”  
Remus’s lips twitched and she grinned up at him, saying, “It’s okay, you can laugh. I’m a walking disaster zone.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Remus replied diplomatically, moving towards the door of the Hog’s Head. “Shall we?” He held open the door for her and she slipped inside.

It was as she remembered it from her last visit, which had been almost five years ago, on a Hogsmeade trip in her last year at school. The floor was dusty, littered with sawdust and straw. The ceiling was low and the lights dim, giving the whole place a murky, subterranean atmosphere. It was early in the evening and only a few other patrons had arrived before them. The whole pub seemed to be made up of dark nooks, and Remus led her to a table in the far corner on the left, where they had a fairly good view of the door and the bar. Tonks slid onto a cracked leather love seat which faced the room, and Remus sat in a chair opposite her, which faced the stairs and the back parlour. 

“We could be here a while,” Tonks said, trying to suppress a yawn, “Mad-Eye only heard half of the conversation, and he’s not sure what time they arranged to meet.”  
“Mmm, it’ll be late, I expect.” Remus replied, “I’ve tracked Carrow before. He works at night, always.”  
“Was that in the First War?” Tonks asked, her interest piqued. 

Remus nodded, but didn’t elaborate. Tonks didn’t want to push him, or make him uncomfortable, but she was desperately curious about how the Order had worked before.

“What was it like, back then?” She asked quietly.

He was silent for several moments, his expression vague. Then, he sighed deeply and said, “Terrible. Horrifying. Brilliant. Everything at once. It…” He cut off, and cleared his throat, “it was the best time of my life, and the very worst.”

Tonks didn’t really know what to say to that, so she said nothing. She got up from her chair, gestured to the bar and asked what he wanted to drink. A few minutes later she returned with two butterbeers, and set them carefully on the table between them. 

“So,” She said as she sat back down, “tell me something about yourself.”

Remus looked at her strangely for a moment, then said, “What do you mean?”

“Tell me something about you. What do you like doing?”

“I like to read,” Remus said, seeming bemused that she was interested in such information, “and gardening. At home I have a vegetable patch, although I daresay its been rather neglected this last week. I’ve mainly been living at Grimmauld Place since it became Headquarters. What about you?”

“I dunno, really. I like reading, too, but I never have time these day. By the time I get home from work I’m usually shattered. The first couple of years out of school I went out a lot, y’know, partying, that kind of thing, but not anymore. I’m too old for it now.”

At this, Remus gave a small chuckle. “Too old?” He said incredulously, “You’re – what –twenty-five?”

“Twenty-two,” Tonks said, laughing with him, “I feel about sixty, though!”  
“Twenty-two!” Remus repeated, grinning and shaking his head. She was fairly sure she could see him blushing slightly in the flickering candlelight. “Merlin, you’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

Tonks huffed another laugh, taking a swig of butterbeer. 

“And you?” She asked, setting her glass back down.

“Older than you.” Remus said simply, picking up his own drink and taking a sip. 

The butterbeer left foam clinging to the rough stubble on his top lip. Tonks thought it was the most adorable thing she had ever seen.  
“You’re the same age as Sirius, right?” She said, not letting him get out of it easily, “And he’s thirty-five.”

“Very good.” Remus said, and his eye gleamed mischievously as he said, “I suppose you know that from his extremely hefty Ministry-sanctioned file.”

“It’s about eighty pages long, at my last count.” She retorted, giggling, and she revelled in the easy way that Remus joined in with her laughter, chuckling quietly as he took another sip of his butterbeer. 

They stopped laughing rather abruptly when the door to the pub banged open. Remus tensed, unable to see who had entered, but Tonks shook her head at him when she saw that it was one of the elderly witches she had seen earlier in the high street. They both relaxed, easing back into conversation. 

Tonks was surprised by how easy it was to talk to Remus. Although he still seemed slightly distant, as though he didn’t want to give too much about himself away, he was quick to laugh and seemed genuinely interested in listening to what she had to say. She told him about her family, about her auror training and how she had almost failed her Stealth and Tracking test. She regaled him with stories of her various accidents and misadventures, finding herself able even to admit to him that she feared she wasn’t really cut out to be an auror.

“What makes you think so?” He asked when she told him this.

“I dunno,” She replied, shrugging. “Most of my colleagues are men. They’re all about harsh bravado and intimidation. Gods, you should hear them boasting about how many duels they’ve won and how many wizards they’ve fought. It’s not that I’m not willing to fight - I just hate the idea of going in wands-blazing, y’know. Perhaps that makes me a coward.”

“Tonks, bravery is not measured by our willingness to inflict violence upon others.” Remus said quietly, and the small, warm smile that he offered her made her chest tighten. She blinked hard, pushing down the wave of emotion that washed through her at his words, and arranged her face into a teasing grin.

“Is everything you say a proverb of some kind?” She asked, prodding his leg under the table with the toe of her boot.

He blushed again and laughed nervously, running a hand through his hair. Behind him, the door opened again and Tonks immediately looked up. A tall, thin man stepped inside. He was wearing a long, dark cloak with the hood up, but Tonks recognised him immediately. She tapped Remus gently on the arm and mouthed _Macnair_ at him. He straightened in his chair, hand clamped around his now empty glass on the table. 

“He’s gone to a table in the far corner.” Tonks said, watching Macnair as he disappeared into the darkest recess of the pub, apparently to sit alone at a table.

“Can you see him?” Remus asked.  
“Just about. His outline, anyway. He’s alone.”

“For now.” 

As they waited for Carrow to arrive, Remus refilled their drinks at the bar. When he returned he slid onto the love seat next to her, so that he too could watch the door and Macnair. As he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the table, Tonks caught a whiff of familiar Earl Grey. She wondered casually if he bathed in the stuff; it wouldn’t surprise her.

“You really are very Professor-ish, you know.” She said conversationally, shifting to look at him, so that her back was resting on the cold stone of the wall, one leg casually pulled up onto the dirty leather of the sofa.

“Well, I was a professor for a while,” Remus said, looking at her leg, which was bent at the knee, resting a few inches from his thigh. He moved almost imperceptibly away from her.

“Did you enjoy it?”

“It was the best job I’ve ever had, although there’s little competition.”

Tonks looked at him questioningly, and he sighed, “It’s difficult, with my condition. I don’t often stay in jobs for very long, and those that will take me on aren’t what you’d call respectable positions.”  
“Oh,” She said, feeling suddenly very sad, “that’s… that’s awful.”

“It’s reality.” Remus said, shrugging. “I’m used to it. I’ve been lucky, really. All things considered.”

He was tracing a crack in the table with one long, elegant finger, as he had done in Grimmauld Place a few days ago. Tonks felt a sudden surge of fondness for him. 

The door banged open again, and Remus’s head snapped up. The man who walked in this time was younger than Macnair, but was again wearing a long, dark cloak. Tonks looked at Remus, who nodded stiffly. 

“That’s him?” She asked, “Carrow?”

“That’s him.” Remus replied.

“Well, that’s the confirmation we need,” Tonks said quietly, “Macnair’s contacting old Death Eaters.”  
“Getting the band back together.” Remus agreed, and despite his light tone Tonks could tell by the stiffness in his shoulders and jaw that he was tense.

“We should stay, see if anyone else joins them.” Tonks said, and she couldn’t help but feel pleased when Remus nodded in agreement. 

Once again, they fell easily into conversation, although both kept an eye on the dark corner where Macnair and Carrow sat. They each had a few more drinks. Tonks tried to get as close to the table where the two Death Eaters sat as she could when she went to the bar, but was unable to make out anything they were saying. When she returned to their table, Remus told her a few stories about the pranks that Sirius and James had pulled off at school, and despite the seriousness of the situation, she found herself doubled over in silent laughter. Remus was chuckling quietly too.

After about an hour, Macnair and Carrow stood, crossed the dirty floor, and left the pub. Tonks let out a long breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding in, and Remus drummed his fingers on the tabletop.

“We should follow them,” He said, standing up. “See where they’re going.”

Tonks followed him out of the pub, struggling to keep up with his long strides. He waited for her by the door, holding it open to let her out first. It was dark outside, although the summer air was still pleasantly warm. They saw Carrow disappearing down an alleyway opposite, and began to follow him. They were about halfway down the alley when they heard Carrow stop, and then heard Macnair’s low voice whispering something that was indistinguishable. Tonks realised with a jolt that the two Death Eaters had changed direction, and that they were headed straight back towards her and Remus. She moved without thinking, backing up against the wall and pulling Remus to her.

“What are-” Remus spluttered, faltering as she fisted his shirt to tug him closer.

“Shh!” She hissed, grabbing the back of his head to pull him down so that she could whisper in his ear. “They’re coming back. Just hold me and be quiet.”  
Remus, who had been struggling against her grip, stilled immediately. He put one arm awkwardly around her, placing his open hand against the wall behind her, and moved ever so slightly closer. Tonks’ hand was still gripping his shirt, her back pressed to the cold wall. Remus was so close to her now that she could hear him breathing, and the scent of Earl Grey was mixed with a warmer smell, something that was indisputably _Remus._ It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. When he bent his head lower, pressing his chin against her neck so that his breath traced across the back of shoulder, she shivered.

“What exactly is your plan here?” He whispered, his voice harsh and breathy.

“Just stay where you are. They’ll ignore us.” Tonks replied, keeping one hand on the back of his neck and running the other up his arm to rest on his shoulder.

“Ignore us?! We look like we’re-” He didn’t finish the sentence, seemingly unable to.

“ _Exactly_ ,” Tonks hissed at him, rolling her eyes even though he couldn’t see her in the near-black of the alley. “Would you interrupt two people going at it in an alley?!”

Remus groaned, exasperated, but he didn’t move away from her. Tonks’ forehead was pressed hard against his collarbone now. She wondered vaguely what it would be like to run her tongue along it, up to the juncture of his throat. She pushed the thought quickly aside. 

Within a few seconds the Death Eaters were almost level with them. Tonks pulled Remus closer still and he let her, their chests pressed together, both breathing hard, hearts thumping. The pair passed them silently, not even sparing a glance in their direction, footsteps echoing in the alley until they faded into silence.

“Fucking hell.” Tonks breathed, slumping back against the wall and letting her hands drop away from Remus. He moved away from her quickly, standing up straight and running a hand haphazardly through his hair, pushing it off of his forehead. 

“That was close,” He said after a moment. 

“I’ll say.” Tonks replied, then, looking back down the empty alley, she asked him, “What do you reckon they were doing? What’s down there?”

Remus turned to squint into the darkness. “There’s an apothecary up there, but I can’t see what they’d want with that. Other than that I think it’s just houses.”

“Hmm. We should go and have a look.”

They walked together up the narrow cobbled pathway in silence. Tonks risked a glance up at Remus as they went, but his face was distorted by the darkness and she couldn’t make out his expression. She felt guilty now, as though she’d forced him to do something he didn’t want to do, which, she supposed, she had. Her stomach lurched and she cleared her throat anxiously.

“I’m, uh, sorry about grabbing you back there,” She said, and to her relief, she could see the trace of a smile on his face.

“It’s fine, you just made me jump.”  
“I know, I panicked. It was the only thing I could think to do,” She faltered, and went on, “not that I often do that in alleys, or at all, y’know, I just-” She could herself getting flustered, embarrassment creeping up her spine like ice.

“Tonks, it’s okay,” Remus said, and she could hear the amusement in his voice. “I get it, you’re not a alleyway stalker.”

She punched him playfully on the arm, and he chuckled. They had reached the end of the narrow lane now, and Tonks could see the dark window of the Apothecary in front of them, its black, peeling sign only just legible. On either side were old lopsided terraced houses. There was no one around, and no sign of the Death Eaters’ presence.

“Weird.” Said Tonks, turning to look up the abandoned street. “Well, I guess we should probably get back to Headquarters.”

But Remus had stopped in front of the Apothecary doorway and was examining something on the brickwork. He beckoned to her and she stepped towards him, lighting her wand to hold over the spot he was indicating. Etched into one of the bricks was a small sideways ’S’.

“Just graffiti, surely,” She said, raising her wand to examine the rest of the wall, which was littered with indentations, old scratches and carvings.

“No,” Said Remus, pressing his thumb against the shape, “It’s a signal of some kind, I’m sure of it.”

“You-Know-Who’s signal?”

“Maybe. Back in the First War, they used to use signals like this to identify victims, or safe houses they were using. Here, feel,” He took her free hand in his and moved it toward the wall, so that her fingertips brushed over the smooth S. Despite the warm June evening, the brick was as cold as ice, and she pulled her hand away.

“We should send an owl to Dumbledore,” Tonks said, guiding Remus away from the wall and back towards the alley. “C’mon, let’s get back to Headquarters.”

They walked quickly back to the high street, which was now completely deserted. Just before they apparated, Tonks threaded her fingers through Remus’s, letting him guide them both back to Grimmauld Place.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	3. Colour in Your Cheeks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Next to her, Remus shifted in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as he pushed his empty bowl away. He was talking to Arthur, his head turned away from her, and she let her eyes trace the long, solid length of his leg, up to the juncture of his hips and across one broad shoulder._  
>  Merlin’s beard, _she thought uneasily,_ I’m in the deep end here.
> 
> Tonks attends the second meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. Among other things, she is yelled at by a painting of Sirius's mother, signed up to another watch duty, and, for the second time in as many days, flustered by Remus Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A slightly shorter chapter today! I had a lot of fun writing this one, so I hope you enjoy it. Thanks to everyone who has read and commented so far!

Tonks slept in late the following morning. In response Remus and Tonks’ late night owl detailing what they had found at the Apothecary, Dumbledore had called an Order meeting for that evening. It was Tonks’ day off, so she had nowhere to be until ten past six, when she was due to apparate to Grimmauld Place with Lupin. Dumbledore had been very clear that Order members should arrive only in pairs outside Headquarters, not wishing to draw any unwanted attention to its location. Tonks didn’t blame him. Fudge was growing more paranoid by the day, making ridiculous claims of coups and treachery in the Daily Prophet. It was quite clear that he was desperate for any excuse to publicly vilify Dumbledore, and Tonks was sure that finding out about the secret society would tip the Minister over the edge. 

Glancing at the clock as she rolled over, Tonks saw that it was almost midday. She groaned and stretched, blinking in the bright sunlight, and finally hauled herself out of bed. Her ankle twinged slightly as she put weight on it, and the pain made her think of Remus’s face when she’d tripped, and the gentle way he’d helped her up. There was no denying to herself that she’d enjoyed the time they’d spent together. If you ignored the fact that they’d almost got themselves caught, or even killed, by a pair of Death Eaters, it had been a wonderful evening. 

She smiled to herself as she padded to the kitchen, setting a slice of bread on to toast with a flick of her wand. She ate leisurely, did the washing up, then settled herself onto the sofa and picked up the book she’d been meaning to read for several weeks. She told herself that she definitely wasn’t reading because Remus had told her that it was his favourite thing to do; she was just enjoying a quiet day at home by herself. 

The afternoon passed quickly. Molly had offered to make dinner that night, now that Sirius had had time to clean the kitchen, so Tonks made a bowl of soup at three for lunch. She poured herself a mug of Earl Grey to go with it, trying hard to ignore the way the warm smell made her think of Remus, and how he had felt pressed against her in the alley. She could almost still feel his warm breath on her neck, and the solid, scratchy line of his chin where he’d leant down to whisper in her ear. 

_Stop thinking about him_ , she told herself firmly, putting her bowl in the sink with more force than she had intended, so that the spoon clattered against the rim. 

She showered then, and dressed, changing her hair to a bright, bubblegum pink. She left the length at her shoulders, where it sat, clashing alarmingly with the red stripes on her shirt. 

She’d always used clothes to make a statement of some kind, to accentuate how she morphed her face and hair. As a teenager, she’d worn mainly black, and had gone through something of a goth phase that she hadn’t yet fully grown out of. She thought about the way Remus dressed; how he always looked as though he were ready to give a lecture, or fall asleep in an armchair. The clothes she’d seen him in had all been a little shabby, clearly well-worn and often-washed. It made sense, if he struggled to hold down a job, but the thought of him being unable to afford new clothes, or new books, made her chest ache. She decided she’d find out when his birthday was, and get him something. 

At five past six Tonks pulled on her boots and left the flat. She meandered to her usual apparition spot, not wanting to be early and put out the carefully formatted arrival schedule. When she appeared in Grimmauld Place at precisely ten past six, she was unsurprised to find Remus already waiting under the shade of an oak tree opposite number 12. 

“Wotcher, Remus,” she said, unable to suppress a wide grin as he stepped towards her. 

“Hello, Tonks” he replied, offering her a small smile in return.

Together, they made their way over the road and up the steps to the door of number 12. Remus tapped the door with his wand and allowed her to go in first. The hallway was lit today, the large sconces on the wall giving off a warm, orange glow. Tonks noticed that the cobwebs had been vanished away, although the mysterious blood-like stains on the walls were still there.

They crept up the hall together, and had almost made it to the shelter of the kitchen when Tonks accidentally kicked the Troll’s leg umbrella stand. It clattered noisily and with a great whoosh the curtains covering Mrs Black’s portrait shot open.  
“DISGUSTING, CRETINOUS BEAST! BLOOD TRAITOR! SCURGE OF MY OWN FLESH AND BL-” 

“Ah, Tonks, I don’t think you’ve yet had the pleasure of meeting my mother!” Sirius had burst out of the kitchen and was now shouting over the screams of the portrait. “She can be a little cold at first, but I assure you, she’s an absolutely _darling_ once you get to know her!” Sirius did a little mocking bow with these last words, gesturing with an elaborate hand to the portrait.

Remus rolled his eyes and began trying to pull the curtains back together, with little success.

“YOU LOATHSOME, UGLY BEAST, UNHAND ME!” Mrs Black was yelling louder than ever now, giving Remus a look of such utmost disgust that it bordered on caricaturesque. 

Tonks jumped forward to help Remus, grabbing hold of the other curtain and together they finally managed to wrench them across the painting. 

“Mother’s got you down to a tee, hasn’t she, Moony?” Sirius said with a chuckle as they descended into the kitchen.

“Yes, very funny,” Remus said sardonically, and though his face was straight Tonks caught the glimmer of humour that passed between the two men as they looked at each other. 

The kitchen looked far more welcoming than when Tonks had last visited. The dust was gone, the counters were clean, and the pans and pots that had been in the sink were now hanging, sparkling, from the rafters. Molly Weasley was at the stove, stirring a large saucepan of stew with her wand as she chopped carrots. It smelt divine.

Tonks and Remus took their seats at the already half-full table. Arthur and Bill were deep in conversation, but they looked up as the pair sat down and nodded in greeting. Dumbledore and McGonagall were pondering over a piece of parchment at the head of the table, clearly extremely immersed, and Severus Snape was stood against the back wall, looking as though he’d rather be taking swimming lessons with a Grindylow. 

“Did you get back okay last night?” Remus asked Tonks as they settled into their seats.

“Oh, yeah, fine thanks. Did you?”

“Yes, I got back just after midnight. I’m moving in here, actually, after tonight,” 

“Oh, I bet Sirius is pleased!”

“I’d say so. He’s been ‘reorganising’ a room for me this week, which I think means planting booby-traps and planning pranks.” He smiled good-naturedly, and Tonks made a mental note not to accept anything Sirius offered her, which was tested when Sirius plonked himself down opposite them and held out a bowl of sweets.

“Don’t worry,” Sirius said, noting their suspicious expressions, “Molly brought them.”

Tonks looked at Remus, who shrugged, and they both took a sweet.

By the time the Hiccough sweets had worn off, most of the Order had arrived. Tonks clutched her chest and let out a steadying breath.

“Fucking hell, Sirius, where did you get those? They’re the most potent hiccoughing sweets I’ve ever had the misfortune of eating.” She said, sipping tentatively at the water Remus had poured her.

“I told you,” Sirius said, a sparkle in his eye. “Molly brought them. Well, I think _technically_ her twin boys sent them. Right pair of troublemakers they are, apparently.” He grinned serenely and downed his glass of pumpkin juice. 

The last pair of Order members arrived – Sturgis Podmore and Emmeline Vance – and everyone squeezed up to allow them to sit down. With most of the junk cleared out of the kitchen there was enough room for everyone to sit around the table, but it was a tight fit. Tonks shuffled her chair closer to Remus’s, and as their hands brushed a static shock made her flinch away.

“Ouch!” She said, laughing at the look on Remus’s face. “Did you feel that?”

“Yeah, sorry.” He rubbed his own hand.

“Must be all that wool you wear, professor.” She teased, unable to resist nudging him with her shoulder.

His lips stretched into something like a smile, and she knew he was trying to maintain a level of propriety, which was completely undermined by the sparkle in his eye as he looked at her. They continued along this vein as Molly served dinner, Tonks making small jibes and jokes while Remus merely smirked and allowed her to tease him. The stew was mouth-wateringly delicious, served with freshly baked bread and soft butter. Tonks noticed that Remus ate as he did everything else - delicately and with great care and precision. She wondered if he ever lost his temper or got upset. She wondered, too, what he would be like in bed. Would he be as gentle and calm as he was in everyday life? Or would that be the one time he let himself go; would he pin her down and take her, hard and rough and desperate, as though he were a man dying of thirst and she a pool of cool water? 

_Not appropriate._ Tonks chastised herself, sinking her spoon back into her stew as she felt heat creep up her face and pool in her belly. 

She looked up from her bowl and accidentally caught Dumbledore’s eye, looking quickly away and hoping beyond hope that his powers of legilimency were far less potent than commonly believed. Next to her, Remus shifted in his seat, crossing his legs at the ankles as he pushed his empty bowl away. He was talking to Arthur, his head turned away from her, and she let her eyes trace the long, solid length of his leg, up to the juncture of his hips and across one broad shoulder. 

_Merlin’s beard,_ she thought uneasily, _I’m in the fucking deep end here._

When they’d all eaten and cleared the dishes away, Dumbledore began the meeting. He recounted Remus and Tonks’ misadventure the previous night, holding up the sheet of parchment that he and Minerva had been pouring over earlier. Etched upon it was a copy of the strange, thin sideways ’S’. 

“We are, at present, unsure exactly what it means. Severus believes it to be some kind of marker, but we have no further details. I think it wise, therefore, that we consider maintaining an overnight watch on the Apothecary shop in Hogsmeade. By great luck,” Dumbledore’s blue eyes twinkled over the top of his half-moon spectacles, “I happen to have use of one of the flats opposite the shop. We shall arrange another rota, again working in pairs, to keep watch.”

There was no question in Dumbledore’s tone, Tonks realised, of whether the Order members minded having another watch duty added to their schedules. She supposed it was a moot point - she knew everyone in the room, herself included, would willingly lay down their lives at Dumbledore’s embroidered, lacy slippers, but it still struck her as a little presumptuous. She shook the thought away.

This meeting was far shorter than the first had been, and within the hour Dumbledore bade them goodnight and left with McGonagall and Snape. Tonks turned to Remus and grinned.

“So, you, me, Saturday night. In the flat” Tonks said, and, realising at once how the confirmation of their first night watch sounded, she added “Watching for suspicious nighttime activities. Not- nighttime activities, not like that, I mean, watching the Apothecary.” 

Remus merely smirked down at her, something dancing playfully behind his eyes, and she felt the familiar creeping heat of embarrassment run over her. This was the second time in as many days that he’d managed to make her feel like a nun in a sex shop. _She_ was the one who did the teasing, and the poking fun and the flirtatious-but-not-that-flirtatious jokes. He was meant to be the quiet, awkward professor, yet twice now he had managed to fluster her. He seemed to revel in making her squirm. 

It was then that she noticed Sirius watching them from across the table, his chin resting on his hand, a wide grin plastered across his face.

“Oh,” He said earnestly when Tonks turned to look at him, “don’t let me interrupt. I’m just enjoying the show.”

“Show?” Tonks asked, feeling extremely warm under Sirius’s amused gaze.

“You two, pretending you haven’t spent the last,” He looked at his watch, “two hours flirting like two horny fifteen year olds.”

Remus had taken a large swig of pumpkin juice just as Sirius spoke, and he made an alarmed gurgling sound and began choking. Tonks thumped him on the back. He coughed loudly for several moments, then managed to clear his throat and said hoarsely, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do. You’ll pretend you don’t, probably for the next two or three weeks, and then something will snap and we’ll probably find you shagging each other in Kreacher’s cupboard.” He flashed them another dazzling smile, pushed himself up and sauntered away to talk to Molly. 

“Er…’ Tonks began, unsure whether she should laugh.

“I’m sorry about that. He’s not been around people for a while, doesn’t know what he’s on about.” Remus said in a rush, pushing his hair off his forehead and giving Tonks a wide-eyed, rabbit-caught-in-wandlight look.

Tonks shrugged nonchalantly, thinking silently to herself _Oh, he knows_ exactly _what he’s on about._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always felt a little let down that canon Sirius was always so serious (pun 100% intended). I like to think that in those early weeks of the order reforming, with his friends around him, he'd be up to his usual mischief.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	4. First Few Desperate Hours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tonks and Remus take their first watch over the old Apothecary in Hogsmeade.

Tonks yawned widely as she crossed the road. She’d just finished an eight hour shift; an eight hour shift of pure, unadulterated hell. Every job she and Proudfoot had attended had gone wrong. She massaged her shoulder tenderly as she came to the end of the road, turning left and making her way quickly to the pie shop on the corner of the next street. She’d fallen hard in a chase with three teenage wizards who’d set a gruesome and depraved trap for muggles in a West London bus shelter. It hadn’t hurt much at the time, but her shoulder was now throbbing uncomfortably and her wrist twinged with every hurried step she took. 

She reached the pie shop, bought a couple of pasties and began eating one immediately. She only had half an hour until she was due to meet Remus in Hogsmeade for their first night watch duty. She hadn’t seen him since the Order meeting on Tuesday, when, following Sirius’s inappropriate but entirely warranted prediction, she had bade him an awkward farewell and left Grimmauld Place. 

Tonks had tried to put all thoughts of Remus out of her mind for the rest of the week, and it had worked – to an extent. At work, she hardly had time to think of anything but the task in front of her. When she got home, though, and let herself into her empty, dark flat, it became more difficult not to think of Remus’s gentle, shy smile and his warm hand in hers. She was inexplicably and irrevocably attracted to him. She knew that she was treading a dangerous line. Not only was Remus her work partner in a job that was arguably more dangerous than her Auror position, he was also considerably older than her, and had given no sign that he thought of her as anything other than a colleague. He blushed when she made flirtatious jokes, sure, but he also blushed when Sirius mocked him, and when Dumbledore complimented him. There was a chance, even, that he already had a relationship. He seemed the type to keep his private life extremely private. What was to say that he didn’t have a wife or girlfriend waiting at home for him? This thought made Tonks’ chest constrict with something that felt worryingly like jealousy. 

At six thirty Tonks darted into a disused public toilet off of Piccadilly Circus and disapparated. As usual, Remus was already waiting for her in the High Street, leaning against a streetlamp with his hands in his pockets. They greeted each other with only a hint of embarrassment, and began the walk to the Apothecary. 

It was still light, the sun only just beginning to dip down behind the rows of shops and houses, casting a warm, pinkish glow over the street. Tonks noticed that the light reflected in Remus’s eyes, and made his hair look a burnt auburn colour. He noticed her watching him as they walked, and offered her a characteristically warm smile. She grinned back, stuffing her hands self-consciously into the pockets of her cloak and resolving to keep her eyes in front of her.

The flat that Dumbledore had procured was almost directly opposite the Apothecary, just a few houses down. Remus let them in through the battered front door, and allowed Tonks to go up the stairs ahead of him. Inside, they found a small kitchen and living room, with low ceilings and tired furniture. It was clean, and the bed in the single bedroom looked freshly made. 

“Would you like something to drink?” Remus asked her, as they sat down at the kitchen table.

“Sure, thanks,” Tonks replied, accepting the flask he offered her.

From the kitchen table they had a fairly good view out over the street below. Tonks could see the dark, lifeless windows of the Apothecary and the entrance to the alleyway that she and Remus had had to hide in the previous week. 

“So,” Tonks said, taking a long swig of pumpkin juice, “how’s your week been?”

“Oh, fine, fine. We’ve mainly been cleaning the house up. It’s dull work, but I know Sirius appreciates the help.” He paused, drawing one foot up so that it rested on the opposite knee, “I wanted to say, about what Sirius said the other day-”

“It’s fine, honestly.” Tonks interrupted, “Like you said, he’s been on the run for too long. Doesn’t know what he’s on about.” She smiled at him reassuringly. 

“Right, yeah, exactly.” Remus replied, but there was something in the way he said it that made Tonks think maybe he, too, was unconvinced of this explanation. “Do you know,” Remus said, suddenly changing the subject, “the other day I found him stood at the kitchen sink, just turning the tap on and off. He was mesmerised. I keep forgetting how hard these last few years have been for him. He’s not lived in an actual house for over a decade.”  
“Blimey,” Tonks said, considering properly for the first time of just how much her cousin had suffered.

It was strange, she mused, how quickly she had grown fond of Sirius. She’d only met him a handful of times now, and despite spending the best part of her life believing him to be a merciless killer, she felt genuine affection for her cousin.

“How’s he doing, really?” She asked now, moving her eyes from the Apothecary to look at Remus.  
“Oh, you know,” Remus shrugged, setting down his pumpkin juice and resting his elbows on his knees. “He misses Harry, hates that he’s had to go back to his Uncle and Aunt’s for summer. He’s restless, and bored, and he despises living in his mother’s house. I think he’s enjoying my company, though.”

“Well,” Tonks said, letting her voice edge just slightly into a playful tease, “you do make excellent company.”

Remus smiled, “I’m glad you think so, especially as we’ve got another twelve hours of watch duty to go.”

Tonks groaned and let her head fall back against the wooden chair. “Gods, I’m so exhausted after this week. Twelve raids we did yesterday. Twelve! And then Proudfoot went and got us into a chase this afternoon, and of course I fell over. I’m surprised I didn’t break my bloody wrist, to be honest.” She massaged the offending wrist gently, grimacing a little when it clicked loudly.

Remus watched her for a moment, a curious expression on his face, then he reached into the pocket of his jacket and rummaged about, pulling out a glass pot.

“Here,” He said, handing her the pot, “try this. It’s just a salve, but it’s good for muscle aches.”  
Tonks took the pot from him and tried to unscrew it, wincing when this made her wrist throb painfully.

“Let me,” Remus said, taking the pot back from her and unscrewing it easily.

“Do you mind-?” Tonks said, rolling up the sleeve of her robes and holding out her wrist for him.

“Oh, um, sure.” 

He took her wrist in one large, warm hand, holding it gently, and dipped the fingers of his other hand into the jar. The room, Tonks realised, had suddenly grown extremely warm and close. Remus swallowed loudly, paused for a moment, and then very slowly began to massage the salve over Tonks’ wrist. His eyes were trained on her arm, his fingers working rhythmically from the middle of her forearm down to her knuckles. Tonks pulled her chair forwards slightly, so that their knees were almost touching beneath the wonky kitchen table. Remus’s fingertips were calloused, slightly rough, and their movement over her skin felt indecently intimate. It was almost unbearably erotic. Just as she thought she was about to combust from the tension, he stopped, laying her wrist onto the table top. 

“Thanks,” She said, her voice coming out throaty and a little hoarse, “that was… good.”

“You can sleep, if you want. I don’t mind taking the first watch.” He nodded to the open bedroom door and the bed beyond it. 

Tonks fell asleep quickly. The bed was old, its solid wooden headboard marked and notched, but it was comfortable. She dreamt of old shops and woollen cardigans that kept coming alive and trying to strangle her. When Remus shook her gently awake at one in the morning, she jumped, scrabbling for the blanket, disoriented.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “it’s just me.”

“Merlin’s beard, I was having a weird dream.” She said, rubbing sleep out of her eyes and stretching. “My turn for watch duty, is it?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Seen any action?”

“None at all so far.”

Tonks got out of the bed and Remus sat down on it, pulling off his shoes. A thrill ran through her as she watched him stretch out on top of the covers, his long, solid mass echoing her own movements just a few minutes previously. It took all of her willpower not to curl back under the covers with him. Instead, she forced herself to leave the bedroom, pulled the door shut behind her, and settled in for a long, boring morning. 

The sun rose just after six, and with it Remus emerged from the bedroom, yawning and stretching. He looked more dishevelled than usual; his shirt untucked, one toe poking out of a poorly darned sock, trousers creased from sleeping in them. As he bent over to pull his shoes on, his shirt rode up slightly, revealing an inch of pale skin just above his hip. Tonks couldn’t pull her eyes away, only looking up when he straightened and moved to sit opposite her. 

“Anything?” He asked, rubbing his jaw and scratching at the messy stubble there.

“Nope,” Tonks said, yawning, “I saw a pigeon do a shit on an elderly witch’s head about half an hour ago, but that’s the most exciting thing that’s happened.”

Remus chuckled at this, picking up the flask of pumpkin juice and taking a sip. 

“Sleep okay?” Tonks asked, watching as a droplet of juice ran down Remus’s chin and dripped onto the table.

“Yes, thanks.” He replied, setting the flask down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “How’s your wrist?”

“It’s good, actually. That salve really helped,” She paused, wondering if she had the nerve to go on, then added boldly, “and your hands. I think they must be magic.” 

A flush crept up Remus’s face, but he didn’t immediately reply. He seemed to be considering her words. After a few moments he looked her straight in the eye, lifted the flask up to his mouth again, and said softly, “It’s been said before.” 

Tonks’ heart skipped violently and she felt heat coarse through her. She squeezed her thighs together. It was all she could do to morph the furious blush away and hold his gaze. 

“That’s… interesting.” She replied, aiming for a cool and composed tone and coming out somewhere between flustered and downright breathless. 

“I should really get back to Grimmauld Place soon,” Remus said, standing up as though nothing had happened, “I promised I’d help Sirius with the doxy infestation on the second floor today.”

Tonks’ head was spinning when she arrived home half an hour later. She unlocked the door and fell immediately onto the sofa, not even bothering to take her boots off. She closed her eyes and the image of Remus’s face, eyes alive with mischief, filled her mind. She was sure that he’d been implying something with his words, but he could equally have simply been admitting that he was an accomplished healer. 

Gods, but he was infuriating. Surely he too could feel the palpable tension that seemed to fill every room they were in together, and _surely_ he must have noticed that she was attracted to him. Did his occasional teasing mean that he felt the same? Or was he oblivious to it? Could he just be humouring her, letting her act out her childish crush while remaining entirely indifferent to her? Tonks groaned out loud and pulled a cushion over her face. Whatever he was doing, she was sure that it was going to drive her crazy if she didn’t get to the bottom of it soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be a long one, so it probably won't be up until the weekend. Thanks so much to everyone who has read and commented so far! Hope everyone is staying safe in these weird times.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	5. How to Embrace a Swamp Creature

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Order rescue Harry from his Aunt and Uncle's house. Back at Grimmauld Place, Remus and Tonks meet in the moonlit courtyard garden, and discover what they have and what they can't have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a lot of fun with this chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.  
> Some of the dialogue is taken directly from OOTP.

July passed quickly. Tonks was as busy as ever, constantly darting between the Ministry, Grimmauld Place, Hogsmeade, Little Winging, and – more and more rarely – her flat. The members of the order who worked at the Ministry had another duty added to their already tight schedules. Several days a week Tonks was tasked with guarding the long, imposing corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. Tonks knew only the vague details of the prophecy Dumbledore was sure Voldemort would try to steal. She didn’t enjoy these long hours, finding them lonely and extremely dull. She much preferred the time she spent at Grimmauld Place. In the third week of July, Arthur and his family moved into the house, and its dark and gloomy rooms were filled with the sound of laughter, teenage strops, and the chaos of Fred and George’s many pranks. 

Tonks enjoyed the company of the Weasleys, especially Bill, who she had been close with at school. She noticed, however, that whenever she found herself talking to Bill when Remus was around, he would watch them out of the corner of his eye, seemingly unable to stop himself. She thought hopefully that Remus was perhaps jealous, but he never said anything or interrupted them. He didn’t mention Bill during their nights at the flat in Hogsmeade, either.

They’d got into a familiar schedule on these nights. They would sit and talk for an hour or two, exchanging stories and laughing easily, then Tonks would sleep and Remus would wake her in the small hours of the morning so that they could switch over. 

After their conversation that first morning in the flat, Remus had once again become more reserved, allowing Tonks to tease him but not reciprocating. This suited Tonks fine. She enjoyed making him blush with her colourful tales and inappropriate jokes, and though he didn’t respond in kind to her flirting, Tonks often caught him looking at her with a strange expression on his face, something between curiosity and desire.

They were becoming good friends, she realised happily one morning in early August, as she waved him goodbye outside Zonko’s joke shop after a night spent watching the Apothecary. She disapparated, appearing at the workers entrance to the Ministry. She’d managed to get a solid six hours sleep, thanks to Remus insisting he stay up longer than usual because she had to work that day. In the Atrium she was almost knocked over by Delores Umbridge, who came barrelling out of one of the lifts, her round, froggy face grinning widely, almost deranged in her pleasure.

“ _Do_ watch where you’re going, dear.” Umbridge said in a sickly voice, as Tonks regained her balance.

Tonks forced herself to smile politely at Umbridge, then made a rude hand gesture at the witch’s retreating back as she got into the lift. Up in her office, Kingsley was waiting for her, brandishing a large file that he handed her the moment she reached the door.

“By tonight, please, Tonks.” He said, sweeping off down the corridor and leaving Tonks to sort through the unorganised scraps of parchment.

At seven Tonks left the Ministry and apparated home. She shovelled down a jacket potato, changed into her pyjamas and climbed, exhausted, into bed. It was still light outside as she settled down to sleep. 

_Tap._

_Tap tap._

_Tap._

Tonks rolled over, somewhere between consciousness and slumber.

_TAP._

Opening her eyes, she squinted at the fuzzy shape in front of her. A brown owl was perched on the windowsill next to her bed, tapping impatiently on the glass, clutching a roll of parchment in its long, curled claw. Still half asleep, Tonks opened the window and the owl hopped inside, holding its leg up for her. She took the parchment and unrolled it. In familiar, slanting handwriting were the words:

_Your presence is required at Padfoot’s place, as soon as possible._

Tonks frowned at the parchment, letting it roll into a tight scroll again. With a yelp, her tired brain put the pieces together, and she shot out of bed, quickly pulling on a pair of ripped leggings. She stuffed her feet into her boots, grabbed her cloak from the arm of the sofa, and raced out into the cool, fresh air of the night. It was gone eleven o’clock, and Tonks’ heart was thumping in her chest as she jogged quickly down the stairs and out into the street. What could have happened? Why did Dumbledore need to see her so late at night? Was Remus okay? With this last thought, she turned on the spot and disapparated, the painful compression of apparition only a minor gripe compared with the anxiety that was surging through her. 

The first thing she saw when she pushed open the door to number 12 Grimmauld Place was the familiar tall silhouette of Remus Lupin coming down the stairs.

“Remus!” She said, louder than she had intended, and he turned to her, flashing a nervous look at the portrait of Mrs Black, which, thankfully, remained still.

He took the last few stairs in one long stride, and before she could think about what she was doing, she flung herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist. This was the first time they had hugged, not including their misadventure in the alley, and she was surprised at how warm and comfortable he was, the smell of Earl Grey and _Remus_ filling her like hot tea. He put one hand gingerly on her back and returned the hug. She pulled back, a little embarrassed at how desperately she had launched herself at him.

“Hello, Tonks,” He said pleasantly, but his face was drawn and tight.

“What’s happened? I came as soon as I could- are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” He said, “Harry’s been attacked, but he’s okay.”

He led her down into the kitchen. Dumbledore was at the head of the table, deep in conversation with Sirius and Molly Weasley. Molly was ashen-faced, and Sirius looked quite furious, his mouth set in a hard line, fist clenched at his sides. Tonks and Remus slipped quietly into a pair of seats in front of the fire. Remus shuffled his chair closer to Tonks and began recounting the night’s events. 

“What in the name of Merlin’s saggy left testicle was a Dementor doing in Little Winging?” Tonks exclaimed loudly when he’d finished.

“That is indeed the question.” Dumbledore said quietly from the other side of the room, giving Tonks a fond look. 

“Surely they can’t expel him?” Molly said, looking at Dumbledore imploringly. “He was defending himself!”

“Indeed he was, Molly, but Fudge insists that there was no Dementor attack - I know, I know,” He said, as Sirius opened his mouth to interrupt, “But there is nothing we can do until the hearing on the 12th. Harry is safe for now at his Aunt and Uncle’s, though I think it best that we arrange to move him here by the end of the week.”

They arranged the plan that night. A surprising number of Order members volunteered to escort Harry to Grimmauld Place, Tonks and Remus included. Tonks was particularly pleased with her own addition to the plan, which involved luring the Dursley’s away by faking an invitation to a lawn competition. And so it was that she found herself in the kitchen of 4 Privet Drive that Saturday night, helping Kingsley climb in through the open window. Behind her, Alastor, Remus and several others were already inside. Kingsley had just lowered himself down onto the floor when Tonks turned, catching an upturned plate with the long sleeve of her robe. It toppled to the floor, smashing loudly. 

“Bugger,” Tonks hissed, as Moody spun round to ‘Shush’ her. 

She mended the plate quickly, placed it back on the counter and gave Remus a small, bashful smile that she wasn’t sure he could see in the darkness. The group moved slowly into the hallway, Tonks squeezed between Alastor and Remus.

Above them, at the top of the stairs, a shadow moved. Tonks could see the shape of a wand, held aloft.

“Lower you wand, boy, before you take someone’s eye out.” Mad Eye said sharply.

“Professor Moody?” The figure at the top of the stairs moved forward a little, toward the top step.

“I don’t know so much about ‘Professor’. Never got round to much teaching, did I? Get down here, we want to see you properly.”

Harry, it seemed, was still suspicious of them, and though he lowered his wand a little, he didn’t move any further forward. Next to her, Remus cleared his throat.

“It’s all right, Harry,” He said gently into the darkness, “We’ve come to take you away.”

Tonks had the sudden, strong urge to throw her arms around Remus and give him a tight hug. He was so compassionate, so desperate to reassure this boy, who, Tonks was sure, must be extraordinarily anxious to have discovered a group of people at the bottom of his stairs, at night, while home alone.

“P-Professor Lupin, is that you?” 

Tonks raised her own wand, sighing. “Why are we all stood in the dark?” She said, then muttered “Lumos.”

Bright white light flared at the end of her wand, casting the hallway and stairs into sharp relief, andTonks had her first glance of the boy who lived. He was slight, with thick black hair and a keen, slender face that spoke of a recent growth spurt. He blinked down at them in the darkness, his glasses a little wonky, clothes oversized and creased. When his eyes focussed on Remus, his mouth split into a broad grin.

“Ooooh, he looks just like I thought he would!” Tonks said before she could stop herself, and Harry turned to look at her, still smiling, his green eyes reflecting the light of her wand.

Harry descended the stairs as the others commented on his resemblance to James and Lily. Alastor insisted on double checking that Harry was indeed himself, and not a Death Eater, and then yelled as the boy moved to tuck his wand in his back pocket.

“Don’t put your wand there, boy!” He said brusquely, “What if it ignited? Better wizards than you have lost a buttock that way!”

Tonks rolled her eyes and said with feigned intrigue, “Who do you know who’s lost a buttock?”

“Never you mind, you just keep your wand out of your back pocket. Elementary wand safety, nobody bothers with it these days. And I saw that!” Moody scowled at her as she rolled her eyes again. 

Remus held out a hand to Harry and asked quietly how he was. Again, Tonks felt a wave of fondness, and she smiled to herself as Harry stuttered his relief that the Dursleys were out.

“Ha!” Tonks said, proudly, “It was me who lured them out of the way. Sent a letter by Muggle post telling them they’d been shortlisted for the All-England Best Kept Suburban Lawn Competition. They’re heading off to the prize-giving right now… or they think they are.” She winked at Harry, who grinned bemusedly at her.

As they explained the plan to Harry they moved into the kitchen. It was reasonably large, with bright white counter tops and a polished floor. There was a faint, lingering smell of bleach and Tonks thought it was _too_ clean. It was certainly the complete opposite of Tonks’ own flat, which was constantly in a state of disarray. Moody made himself comfortable at the kitchen table.

“This is Nymphadora, Harry,” Remus was saying, gesturing to Tonks, who shuddered and said, “Don’t call me that, Remus.” She turned to Harry, “It’s Tonks.”

Remus gave her a coy grin and corrected himself, “… who prefers to be known by her surname only.”

“So would you if your fool of a mother had called you _Nymphadora.”_ Tonks said, sticking her tongue out at Remus, who ignored her and continued the introductions. 

The kitchen may have been overly clean, but Tonks had to protest when Moody popped out his magical eye and requested a glass from Harry. She volunteered to help Harry pack his trunk, in part to escape the sight of Moody forcing his eyeball back into its socket, and partly out of curiosity. She had heard so much about Harry over the past few weeks, from several people. Remus and Sirius, especially, spoke of Harry with great fondness, and Tonks knew that they were both close to him. She followed Harry into the hall and up the narrow staircase. Here, too, there was a whiff of cleaning products, and everything was exceptionally neat.

“Funny place,” She said, looking at the little table in the hall that was so well-polish it almost hurt to look at. “It’s a bit _too_ clean, d’you know what I mean?” 

They reached the top of the stairs and Harry pushed his bedroom door open. This room looked just like Tonks’ flat. There were clothes on the floor, piles of books in various states of perusal, a few scraps of parchment scattered around, and a tall, dirty owl cage.

“Oh, this is better,” Tonks said appreciatively, as Harry scrambled to remove a pair of underpants that were thrown haphazardly over the end of his bed.

Tonks moved toward the open wardrobe, noticing the mirror on the back of the door. She examined herself for a moment. She’d made her hair violet today, but in the orange glow of Harry’s room it made her look pale and almost sickly.  
“I don’t think violet’s really my colour.” She said, musingly, “D’you think it makes me look a bit peaky?”

Harry made a sort of noncommittal mummer as he stuffed robes into his trunk.  
“Yeah, it does,” Tonks said firmly, and, concentrating, she turned it pink.

Harry looked at her in amazement.

“How did you do that?” He asked, and Tonks realised suddenly that it probably seemed to him that she was showing off.

“I’m a Metamorphmagus. It means I can change my appearance at will. I was born one,” she added,running a hair through her hair. “I got top marks in Concealment and Disguise during Auror training. It was great.”

“You’re an Auror?” Harry sounded impressed by this. 

They chatted as they packed up the rest of his belongings. Tonks’ heart sank a little for the boy when he expressed his desire to morph away the lightning scar on his forehead, and she kindly explained that it wasn’t possible to learn to be a Metamorphmagus. She was extremely impressed by the Firebolt that Harry pulled from the wardrobe, thinking gloomily of her old, knackered Comet Two Sixty that was downstairs in the kitchen. 

Out in the back garden – which, Tonks noted with a gleeful grin, was certainly ‘Best Kept Suburban Law’ material – they all mounted their brooms and prepared to leave. Moody began his usual spiel - no distractions, stick together, formations etc. Tonks had to interrupt when he said severely “If one of us is killed” and began reciting the backup plan with a gruesome finality.

“Stop being so cheerful, Mad Eye, he’ll think we’re not taking this seriously,” She grinned at Harry, who gave her a rather nervous smile in return. 

When the first set of red sparks lit up the sky, they readied themselves, and on Remus’s command (here, Tonks thought audaciously that she wouldn’t mind taking more of Remus’s commands) they set off. It was bitterly cold, the wind whipping furiously at Tonks’ cloak, painfully cold air like hundreds of tiny daggers across her exposed throat and wrists. They kept formation throughout the journey, Tonks in front of Harry, Kingsley and Lupin either side, Mad-Eye bringing up the rear. Tonks glanced briefly over her shoulder to check their position and caught a glimpse of Remus. He had told her before that he’d never quite got to grips with flying, and sure enough, he looked tense on his broomstick, his long legs braced rigidly, face set in an expression of discomfort and nausea. True to form, Mad-Eye tried to direct them through dense, freezing cloud, but Tonks angrily dissuaded him. She almost tore her throat yelling when he suggested looping back. 

Finally, just as Tonks was sure she was inching towards hypothermia, she saw that they were approaching their destination. Together, the group dipped into a dive, and within a few minutes they were soaring over familiar rooftops. They landed on the patch of withered grass opposite number 12, covered from view by an imposing oak tree.

As Moody used Dumbledore’s deluminator to put out the street lamps, throwing them all into the dim light of the stars, Tonks unclipped Harry’s trunk from her broom and lifted it clumsily. Next to her, Remus reached out his hand to share the weight. They followed Mad-Eye and Harry towards number 12, and waited as Harry read the address off of a scrap of paper Mad-Eye held out.

Once inside, Moody lit the wall lamps. Molly came hurrying out of the kitchen, throwing her arms immediately round Harry and pulling him into a tight hug. Tonks watched Remus smiling fondly at the pair, and for the third time that evening she felt a surge of affection for him. 

As she released Harry, Molly turned to the others and said quietly, “He’s just arrived, the meeting’s started.”

The meeting was a tense affair. Severus had discovered that the strange symbol Remus had spotted outside the Apothecary was indeed a message intended for Death Eaters. The Apothecary was being used as a safe house, he claimed, for Voldemort’s new recruits. Snape’s report was brief and made a lot of sense to Tonks, but the atmosphere in the cramped kitchen was remarkably chilly; Snape and Sirius spent most of it shooting each other looks of utmost disgust and loathing. Remus, Tonks noticed, still looked pale and sickly after their broomstick journey. He sipped tentatively at a glass of water and said very little. 

Tonks was relieved when the meeting drew to a close and Severus left, along with several others. She helped Molly and Remus seal up the front door and was just making her way back down the hall when, for the second time, she tripped on the troll’s leg umbrella stand and was sent sprawling to the floor. Immediately, Mrs Black’s curtains whooshed open and the hall was filled with her eye-splitting shrieks. Tonks rubbed the back of her head with her hand, apologising profusely as Remus helped her up off the floor. 

Sirius appeared from the kitchen a moment later, and, still clearly agitated by his encounter with Snape, swore loudly at the painting and began wrenching the curtains closed. Remus moved to help him and together they finally silenced the portrait. Tonks left Sirius, Remus, and Harry to their reunion and hurried down into the kitchen.

Molly had made stew for dinner, and it was as delicious as ever. Remus sat at the other end of the table with Harry and Sirius that night, and though Tonks knew she shouldn’t mind, she missed his familiar presence at her side. They always sat next to each other at meal times and during meetings. She enjoyed watching the delicate way he ate, and berating him for his overindulgence in salt and pepper. She tried to catch his eye a few times over the course of the meal, but he was in deep conversation with Sirius and Harry. He only picked at his stew, either distracted by the subject of their discussion, or still too queasy to eat. 

Tonks was on the verge of dozing off where she sat when she heard Sirius snap at Molly, with venom in his voice, “Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?”

She looked quickly down the table, just as Fred and George joined in the argument, their voices raised. Within minutes, Molly and Sirius were both on their feet, glaring at each other. Tonks felt that the atmosphere in the kitchen had once again turned tense and icy. She understood Molly’s position; Harry was, indeed, still only a child, but she also felt that he deserved to have at least a vague idea of what was going on. Certainly, in the short time she had spent with him, he had seemed sensible, mature for his age. She was pleased when Molly relented, and had to suppress a grin at Ron, Hermione, Fred and George’s bargaining skills. Finally, Molly gave up entirely, sent Ginny to bed, and allowed Sirius, Remus, Tonks, and Arthur to fill in the youngsters on the summer’s events. 

It didn’t take long to give Harry an overview of the situation. He took it remarkably well, Tonks thought. She wondered how she would have reacted to such a deluge of information at his age. At fourteen, Tonks had been boisterous; a class clown. She realised now that this had been an act, designed to distract those around her from an increasing sense of alienation that plagued her throughout her teenage years. She struggled to allow people to get close to her during her later years at Hogwarts, preferring instead to flit between different groups of friends, never really integrating or attaching herself to individuals. It was, she supposed, a result of her ability to change her appearance at will. It made her feel that her personality, too, should be fluid, able to change at the drop of a hat to suit those she was with. She had only recently begun to feel that she knew who she really was. Becoming an Auror had helped a great deal in this respect, but so too had joining the order, and finding a purpose and cause she really believed in. 

She sat in the emptying kitchen and was filled with one of those strange, warm feelings that was both happy and sad at the same time. If someone had asked her to put into words exactly what she was thinking in that moment, she wouldn’t have been able to, but it felt like coming home after a long, extended holiday. She leant back against her chair, closed her eyes and breathed in with the firm conviction that she was where she was meant to be.

She was jolted from this revery at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. The kitchen was empty now except for her and Remus, and he had stood, stooping a little to avoid banging his head on one of the pots hanging above the table. Their eyes met and he smiled weakly. It had to have been over two hours since they had arrived back at Grimmauld Place, but he still look pale and sickly. He moved towards the back door, pushed it open gently, and disappeared into the darkness of the garden. 

Tonks stretched lazily, wondering if she should follow him. As she considered, she absentmindedly popped a peppermint toad into her mouth. After a few more seconds of internal debate, she shrugged and pushed herself to her feet. She was sure Remus wouldn’t mind if she joined him. They’d barely spoken all evening and she was desperate to hear his thoughts on Snape’s information.

In the small courtyard garden, Remus was leaning against the kitchen wall, hands in his pockets, looking up at the night’s sky. Tonks approached him slowly, resting one shoulder against the wall so that she was facing him.

“Hello, Tonks,” He said, without looking at her. 

She followed his gaze and saw that he was studying the moon, which was a bright, glowing waxing crescent. 

“Wotcher,” Tonks replied, moving her eyes back to his face.

In the moonlight he looked etherial. His hair was brushed back off of his pale, lined forehead, and he hadn’t shaved for several days. The bristly stubble suited him. After several moments, he turned away from the sky to face her. 

_Gods, but he’s beautiful,_ she thought, unable to stop herself glancing briefly at his lips, which looked as pale as the rest of his face. 

“You okay?” She asked, remembering his discomfort from their journey, “You looked a bit peaky in there, earlier.”

“Still a bit queasy, unfortunately,” He said, the ghost of a smile playing across his face, “I never was much of a flier.”

“D’ya want a mint?” Tonks said, remembering the bowl of peppermint frogs in the kitchen.

“Oh, sure, thanks,” He held out a hand, clearly expecting her to hand him one.

She was about to push herself off the wall and head back into the kitchen to get the bowl, but something made her stop. Remus looked at her, questioningly, and before she lost the nerve, she opened her mouth and pushed her own peppermint frog to the front of her mouth, holding it out to him between her teeth. 

“Oh,” Remus said, almost inaudibly, his eyes flicking down to her mouth. 

He swallowed, and Tonks watched the Adam’s apple of his throat bob up and back down. A familiar, creeping tension was building between them, and Tonks’ couldn’t help but remember Sirius’s words from a few weeks ago, _then something will snap and we’ll probably find you shagging each other in Kreacher’s cupboard._

Tonks wiggled the mint between her teeth and took a single step towards him, so that they were almost touching. She was once again reminded of how much taller he was than her; the top of her head barely came up to his collarbone, and she had to crane her neck to maintain eye contact. Her heart was thumping violently, and she could hear the blood pumping in her ears. Remus looked almost pained, indecision written across his handsome, scarred face, and she was sure that he was going to move away and disappear back into the house when she felt his hand come up to gently cup the back of her head. He leant towards her, almost painfully slowly, and she shut her eyes. 

Their lips met, gently, and Tonks felt Remus take the mint from her; then he was kissing her properly, his mouth warm and soft and perfect. She wrapped her hands around his neck, threading her fingers through his greying hair, and held onto him as though he were the only thing keeping her afloat. When he opened his mouth against hers and tugged at her bottom lip with his teeth she moaned audibly, and he pulled her closer and turned them, one large hand splayed out across her back, so that they were pressed together, her back against the wall. She was reminded instantly of their close escape in the alley, and pleasure shot through her, because they were _alive_ and _safe_ and _together._ She moved her hand down across Remus’s shoulders, feeling the broad, tense muscles of his back, and further down, until she could pull his hips into hers. He groaned softly into her mouth at this, and she felt the hard, hot evidence of his desire pressed against her belly. She tried to reach her hand between them, desperate to feel him, but suddenly he stepped back, cold air rushing across her body to fill the void where he had been. 

“I can’t-” He said softly, stepping back further, “I shouldn’t have- I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” She said, and it felt as though someone had closed their fist around her heart and squeezed.

“I- We shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this.” He looked as though he might cry, his face white as ever in the darkness, lips red and swollen from kissing her.

“Okay.” Tonks said quietly, “Okay, we won’t. It’s okay.” And she reached out for him, pulling him to her in a tight hug. He let her, wrapping his arms around her, leaning down to rest his chin on the top of her head. In the silence of the garden they stood like that for a long time, holding each other, realising the enormity of what they had and what they couldn’t have. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I shamelessly stole the mint kissing scene from the film Divorcing Jack (which you should definitely go watch if you haven't, it's very funny).  
> I hope everyone is safe and well. Next chapter should be up by the end of the weekend. <3
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	6. The Mess Inside

The next few days passed in a strange blur. Tonks went to work as usual, and spent Thursday night into Friday morning outside the Department of Mysteries, covered by Mad Eye’s invisibility cloak. Pacing the deserted corridor, she played over the events of Sunday night in her mind for the one hundredth time. Remus had _kissed_ her; properly, wonderfully kissed her. Sure, she’d initiated the flirtation, but he had been the one to press his lips to hers. A jolt of excitement flooded through her as she remembered the way he had pushed her up against the cold wall of the house, how his hand had rested, firm and warm, in the small of her back, and the muffled, breathless moan he’d made when she tugged his hips flush against hers. But then he had sprung away, white-faced and anxious.

She desperately wanted to talk to him. They hadn’t discussed what had happened on Sunday, because Sirius had appeared at the back door within a few minutes of their kiss, looking for Remus, and the moment had ended. Tonks had left Grimmauld Place soon after, arriving home in the early hours of the morning, and now she wasn’t due to see him again until Saturday, when they would once again be watching over the Apothecary. 

She turned on her heel at the end of the corridor and set off back up it. Merlin, she hated standing guard outside the Department of Mysteries. She wanted to go home, to get into bed and go to sleep so that for a few hours at least she would not be thinking about Remus and what their kiss meant. Although, she reminded herself, even in her dreams he seemed to haunt her. For three nights in a row she had woken, damp with sweat, the memory of Remus’s body pressed against hers fading quickly as dreams so often did.

He had clearly panicked, Tonks thought miserably, readjusting Mad Eye’s cloak around her shoulders. Perhaps he had instantly regretted kissing her, or had realised with shuddering finality that he did not, in fact, want her. But Tonks had felt the palpable proof of his desire when she had pulled him to her, and once again she replayed the breathless moan he’d made. What, then, had made him pull away so violently? She remembered their very first conversation at the first Order meeting, when she’d suggested they pretend to be on a date and he had scoffed at the idea, and argued that he was too old to be her boyfriend. She didn’t care, though. So what if he was a decade older than her? He was kind and funny and handsome, and he had kissed her with a passion she’d never experienced before. 

She swore out loud, and it echoed in the corridor, bouncing off the cold, hard tiles of the floor and walls. She glanced at her watch, and realised that she had spent almost three hours ruminating over Remus. It was almost six o’clock, and the Unspeakables would be arriving soon. She turned away from the imposing black door at the end of the corridor and made her way quickly to the lift. Inside, she took off the cloak, stuffed it into her pocket and leant against the handrail as the lift rose smoothly up to the Atrium. 

Back at her flat, Tonks didn’t even bother undressing before climbing into bed. She pulled the duvet up over her head and fell into a restless sleep. She dreamt of the courtyard garden, and Remus’s long, elegant hands. She awoke again in the early afternoon. The afternoon sun was blazing in through the windows, casting the flat in an otherworldly glow. Tonks rolled onto her back and studied the ceiling, wondering what to do with the rest of the day. She wanted to go to Grimmauld Place. Remus would be there, and she could find an excuse to get him on his own and talk to him.

“Oh, fuck it,” She said to herself, angrily. 

Not seeing him was killing her, and she just couldn’t wait another day and night until their night watch in Hogsmeade before talking to him. She got out of bed, sniffed herself, decided she did indeed need a shower, and plodded to the bathroom. Under the hot stream of water, she tried to plan what she was going to say to him, but everything she thought of sounded stupid, or childish, or just downright pathetic. Giving up, she dried herself irritably, pulled on a black dress and a pair of lacy tights, and forced her feet into her boots. 

She took the steps down to the street three at a time, her heart thumping against her ribs. She reached the boundary of the anti-apparition charm and turned on the spot, appearing almost instantly on the bottom step of number 12.

Inside, the hallway was brightly lit. Molly appeared at the bottom of the stairs, carrying a large rubbish sack, her hair pulled roughly back in a tight bun. She smiled when she saw Tonks.

“Hello, Tonks, dear. Come to help with the Drawing Room?” Molly said quietly as Tonks approached her.

“Uh, no, sorry Molly,” She took a breath, willing herself on, “I came to see Remus, actually.”

“Oh, bless you. He’s still resting, I think. Sirius is up with him. It was a rough one last night, poor thing.”

Tonks frowned, processing Molly’s words, and then it hit her, and she clapped her hand to her mouth. She’d been so busy worrying about Sunday night, so concerned about what the kiss meant for their friendship, so caught up in her own selfish, carnal desires that she’d forgotten the full moon.

“Is he okay?” She said, anxiety rising in her chest.

Molly nodded, and said gently, “He’s tired, and he’s torn himself up a bit, but he’ll be okay. Go on up, dear, I’m sure he’d like to see you.”

Tonks’ mouth was suddenly very dry, and she had to hold onto the bannister to help her up the steep steps. She knew that Remus’s room was on the third floor, next to Sirius’s, and it felt like an extremely long way as she climbed the stairs, Molly’s words echoing in her head, _he’s torn himself up a bit._

The thought of Remus, injured and exhausted, made her heart physically hurt. And she’d been so self-centred, so worried about herself and her own feelings that she’d completely forgotten what Remus went through every month. She hadn’t forgotten he was a werewolf, of course, she’d just not contemplated what it meant, not bothered to keep track of the moon, because Remus so rarely spoke of it. She reached the third floor landing and could hear low voices coming from the room closest to her. She braced herself and knocked against the wood of the door. 

The voices went quiet, and then Sirius called out, “Come in.”

She pushed the door open, and stepped inside. Like the rest of the house, Remus’s bedroom was all dark wood and green paint. The curtains were drawn, and it was gloomy but still light enough to see easily. Remus was in bed, sat up a little, and Sirius was on a chair, holding a flannel which he had clearly been using to dab at a wound on Remus’s shoulder.

“Hi,” Tonks said quietly. 

“Hi, Tonks.” Sirius smiled at her, and stood up from the chair. “I’d better go and wash these, Moony,” He lifted a bowl filled with bandages and red, bloody water from the bedside table and moved towards Tonks and the door.

With Sirius gone, Tonks could see Remus properly. He was shirtless, but he’d pulled the blankets up as she’d come in, so that she could only see his collarbones and the puckered, mutilated skin of one shoulder. 

“Wotcher, Remus,” She said quietly, lowering herself into the chair that Sirius had vacated, “How're you doing?”

“Well, I’ve been better,” He said, the ghost of a smile on his face. “What are you doing here?”

His tone wasn’t accusatory, merely curious, and, if Tonks wasn’t wrong, a little relieved.

“I came to see you,” She said, truthfully, feeling another tug of guilt. 

“Oh,” Remus said, and he looked confused, as though he didn’t quite believe her. “That’s… you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know I didn’t. I wanted to.” Tonks paused, then added, “I wanted to talk, actually. About- about what happened on Sunday.”

Remus’s eyes moved nervously to the door, which Sirius had shut behind him on his way out. He pushed himself up a little straighter, wincing with the effort. The bedsheets fell a little, and Tonks’ stomach turned as the deep, bloody gash on his shoulder was revealed. Remus quickly pulled the sheet back up.

“I-” He began hesitantly, but Tonks cut across him.

“I understand, if you don’t… if you don’t want me, or like me like that.” She cringed inwardly at how childish it sounded, like they were first years discussing crushes. “And I’m sorry if I pushed you into it, or made you feel uncomfortable.”

Remus smiled, but it was a rather sad smile, “It’s nothing to do with you. You’re- you’re very attractive, and you didn’t force me into anything. _Gods,_ I wanted to kiss you. It’s just- I don’t, I _can’t,_ ” he groped for the words, “I don’t do things like that.”

Tonks pondered this for a moment, then said, bemusedly, “You’re a virgin?”

Remus almost laughed, and he shook his head firmly, “No, Tonks, I’m not a virgin.”

“Then what do you mean? What don’t you do?”

“Relationships,” He said, looking her in the eye, “I don’t- Gods, I’m a _werewolf_ , Tonks. Look at what I do to myself,” He pulled the sheet down quite suddenly, again revealing the wound on his shoulder, and Tonks had to force herself not to flinch. “I could never put you in danger by getting involved- by letting myself-” He broke off, and closed his eyes, resting his head back on the pillow, then said quietly, “I’m sorry.”

“That’s why you panicked?” Tonks asked, “That’s why you moved away when I tried to touch you?”

“Yes,” Remus replied, opening his eyes again. In the low light of the room they looked darker than usual, a deep, ocean blue. “I’m sorry if I led you on. I just- we can’t, Tonks, we just can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Tonks said quietly, feeling strangely calm. “I understand. I’m sorry too.”

She bent towards him, brushed his hair off of his face and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. He smelt of Earl Grey and blood and the faint, earthy tang of sweat. 

_Friends,_ Tonks thought as she crossed the road a few hours later, narrowly avoiding a taxi. _We can still be friends._ And she knew that having Remus as a friend was almost the greatest thing she could possible have. _Almost._ She reached the concrete monstrosity of her block of flats, avoided a puddle of what she hoped wasn’t urine, but knew probably was, and started up the stairs. She’d ended up staying at Grimmauld Place for dinner, finding comfort in the chaos of the kitchen, letting the boisterous noise of six teenagers overwhelm her senses so that she couldn’t think of the crushing, seeping loneliness that was threatening to overwhelm her. She knew Remus had a right to reject her. If he didn’t want anything to happen between them, then she had a duty to respect that. But she also knew, deep in her mind, buried under the doubt and the confusion, that he did want her. And she wanted him. 

_Gods,_ she wanted him. She couldn’t help letting her mind drift as she unlocked her door, thinking of Remus’s broad, bare shoulders under the bedsheets, his large, elegant hands, and the way he had cradle her face so gently when they’d kissed. He wanted her, too. She knew he did. She’d seen it in his eyes when she’d teased him with the mint, felt it in the way he had pressed himself against her. She flopped onto her bed and imagined that it was his hands undoing her dress, not her own; his hands pushing it down off of her shoulders. She wondered if he’d kiss his way down her body and then settle himself between her legs. She groaned out loud, kicking off her tights and letting her hand splay out over the already damp fabric of her knickers. She imagined him touching her, and the mischievous, dark look he’d have in his eyes as he tasted her. She wondered if he would touch himself as he pleasured her, and the thought of his long, graceful fingers wrapped around his cock made her moan again and arch off the bed. She pushed aside her knickers, desperate for more friction, and came hard and suddenly, muffling her moans in her pillow. 

She instantly felt guilty. Remus was at Grimmauld Place, injured and exhausted, and here she was, merrily wanking herself off to the thought of him. _We’re just going to be friends,_ she told herself firmly, _that means no more fantasising, no more flirting, and_ definitely _no more kissing._

Remus recovered quickly. By Saturday night he was out of bed and well enough to meet her as usual in the Hogsmeade High Street for their shared night watch. Tonks had been worried that the atmosphere between them would be awkward and uncomfortable, but they fell into easy conversation as they made their way to the flat. She was conscious of avoiding any topics or exchanges that could be considered flirtatious, but after an hour or so she found herself teasing him about the suit he was wearing, stating boldly that it made him look even more like a professor than usual. When it came time for her to go to bed and leave Remus to watch the old Apothecary alone, she felt a little upset, conscious that she probably wouldn’t see him again properly until their next watch, which wasn’t for another week. 

And so the next few weeks passed by. Tonks threw herself more completely than ever into work and Order duty. She had begun to hate being alone, finding the silence and the calm only drove her to think of Remus. She looked for distraction everywhere, volunteering to take on extra cases at work, helping Molly, Remus, Sirius and the kids clean out Grimmauld Place. She vowed to be the very best friend she could be to Remus, trying almost too hard to make him laugh, or cheer him up. 

As hard as she tried, though, she still noticed the small, innocuous things he did: The way he traced the wooden grain of the table with a single pale, long finger; how his voice, alway calm and clear, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end; and how his lips looked when he spoke, or when he smiled, or laughed. She was sure that she caught him watching her, too, sometimes. He always looked away if she turned to him, but often she could feel his eyes burning into the side of her face, or her back. When they parted ways at the end of a night watch or after dinner at Grimmauld Place she would pull him into a tight hug, squeezing tightly as though she could make him want her again, make him feel what she felt when she looked at him: white hot desire and painful, overwhelming longing. 

At the end of August, Molly arranged a party, in part to celebrate Ron and Hermione being made prefects, and to mark the end of the summer. Tonks agreed to go, even though she was working late that day and wouldn’t be able to get there until eight. In the end, she didn’t make it until almost half past nine, bursting into Grimmauld Place, hair plastered to her forehead, rain dripping off her in great runnels. The hallway was almost silent, but she could hear the faint echo of voices and music from the kitchen. Casting a quick drying spell, she made her way along the hallway and down the steep steps. 

Molly had made banners for Ron and Hermione, and the table had been pushed back against the far wall of the kitchen, leaving a clear open space which was filled with people. Tonks spotted Molly and Arthur, Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione, a rather suspicious looking Fred and George, who were huddled against the far wall, heads together, deep in whispered conversation. Sirius was sat in a chair by the fire, looking rather downcast, and sipping a rapidly emptying glass of firewhisky. Remus was nowhere to be seen, which made Tonks’ heart sink a little. In his absence, she made her way over to the kitchen counter and poured herself a generous glass of nettle wine. As she set the bottle down, Bill approached, coming to lean against the kitchen counter beside her.

“Hi, Bill,” She said, sipping the wine and enjoying the pleasant warmth that spread through her.

“Hey, Tonks, how’re you?” He asked, raising his own glass to his lips.

“Oh, y’know,” She said, noncommittally, shrugging. “Okay, I guess.”

“Only okay?” 

He gave her a concerned look, and before she could stop herself she said in a rush, “D’you remember when you were in your seventh year, and I was in fifth, and we made a bet that I could get a boyfriend before you could get a girlfriend?”

Bill looked at her, perplexed, and nodded slowly.

“And then I asked out Tom Hopkins, even though I didn’t like him and thought he was a bit of a twat,” She took a breath, “and then I confessed to you that there wasn’t really anyone I _wanted_ to go out with.”

Again, Bill nodded, still confused, and she went on, “The truth is, Bill, I’ve never really wanted anyone before. I’ve dated and I’ve tried but I never felt that… connection, y’know. And now,” She lowered her voice, took another gulp of wine and said to the floor, “Now I want someone and I can’t have them.”

“Right…” Bill said slowly, scratching behind his ear. “Is it… are you talking about me?”

Tonks’ head snapped up, “ _Gods_ , no! I mean, not that you’re- not that you’re not nice,” She shook her head to clear it, embarrassment creeping up her spine. “I can’t tell you who it is,” she said finally, sighing.

“And when you say you can’t have them, what do you mean?” Bill said, pushing himself up to sit on the countertop, legs dangling.

“I mean…” She tried to think of how to explain it to him; how to explain that Remus was scared of having a relationship, scared of hurting her, and probably scared, too, of getting hurt by her. “I mean that he’s scared. I think he’s scared that he’s not good enough for me. He thinks I deserve someone better, someone _else,_ ” She sighed again, took another long drink of wine and said, “But I want him.”

Bill smiled his crinkled, warm smile and said, “Does he want you, do you think? Underneath all the fear?”

Tonks thought then of Remus’s soft hands cupping her face, of the tender way he had applied the salve to her injured wrist, and the dazzling, overwhelming beauty of his smile when he looked at her. She remembered his warm mouth moving against hers; the way he had let her hug him the night that Harry had been attacked; how she had felt him, hard and insistent, against her stomach when they’d kissed, and the firm, desperate press of his hand against her back. Images of the two of them holding each other in the quiet courtyard garden played across her mind. Her heart, which she had been trying to ignore for several weeks now, gave a tiny, hopeful flutter, and she smiled into the rim of her wine glass.

“I… I think he does.” She said, finally.

“Then you’ve got to try, Tonks.” Bill said, bumping against her shoulder gently. “You’ve got to at least try.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't stop writing these two, they're so much fun.  
> I've changed the rating to explicit, due to the content of this chapter and the content of the next chapter.  
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented <3
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	7. Night Light

Tonks woke the next day with a splitting headache. She opened her eyes, wincing despite the low light, and looked around, confused, until she remembered with a jolt that she had stayed at Grimmauld Place so that she could help escort Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny to Kings Cross Station. She was in a tiny box room on the fourth floor, sleeping on a bed that was almost certainly older than Dumbledore, and far less pleasant. She pushed off the scratchy woollen covers and yawned widely as she checked her watch. It was not quite seven.

She still felt a little drunk as she dressed and opened the moth-eaten curtains. After talking with Bill the previous night, Tonks had continued to drink her way through most of the bottle of nettle wine, and ended up, she remembered groggily, finishing the fire whiskey with Sirius. She wondered how Sirius was feeling this morning; he, she was sure, had drunk almost an entire quart of the acrid, golden liquor by himself. 

Tonks pulled on her boots, and left the bedroom. There was no bathroom on the fourth floor, so she made her way downstairs to the third floor landing. She was about to turn the handle of the bathroom door when it opened of its own accord, and she found herself face-to-face with Remus. He was wearing a grey, worn t-shirt and a pair of loose pyjama bottoms, his hair sticking up in odd tufts, clutching a toothbrush in one hand. His sudden appearance made her jump, dozy and hungover as she was, and she caught the heel of her boot on a loose floorboard and fell, in slow motion, backwards. Remus grabbed her, but she was already too far gone, and somehow she ended up pulling him down with her. They landed awkwardly, Remus’s shoulder digging in hard to her chest, their legs tangled.

“Fuck!” Tonks swore loudly, as Remus struggled to push himself off of her, “Gods, I’m sorry, Remus, are you okay?”

“Fine, fine,” Remus said, pushing himself onto his knees in front of her, holding out a hand to help pull her into a sitting position, “Are you? Did I hurt you?” 

Tonks rubbed the left side of her ribcage where his shoulder had struck her, wincing a little.

“I’m okay, I think,” she said, then, realising the ridiculousness of the situation, she began to laugh. “You’re bloody heavy, you know!” She said, almost hysterical now, and Remus, too, was laughing, both of them still sat on the dusty floor of the hallway. 

“What the fuck is going on- Oh.” Sirius’s door opened and he stood on the threshold of his room, looking down at them. 

“Morning, Sirius,” Tonks said pleasantly, still giggling, “We were just inspecting your floors.”

This comment sent Remus almost over the edge, and he howled with laughter, clutching his side and wheezing. Happiness welled up inside Tonks as she watched him, followed by a familiar wave of conflict. After Bill’s advice last night she had convinced herself that maybe they could have something together, that maybe she just needed to persuade Remus to give her a chance. Now, though, watching the easy way Remus laughed, she was struck by the horrible realisation that any such attempt could scupper their newly-repaired friendship. 

Remus finally stopped laughing, and Tonks helped him up off the floor, then he and Sirius returned to their rooms to dress, and Tonks used the bathroom. They all reemerged into the hallway at the same time, Sirius looking as hungover as Tonks felt.

Downstairs, Molly was berating the twins, who, Tonks discovered, had accidentally knocked Ginny down two flights of stairs. Ginny was fine, but the atmosphere in the kitchen was tense. Tonks poured herself a bowl of cereal in the stiff silence and settled in a chair next to Remus, who was munching his way through a sausage sandwich. She nudged him with her elbow and he looked up from the _Daily Prophet._

“I didn’t see you last night,” Tonks said, conversationally, pouring milk onto her Cheeri Owls. “Where were you?”

“I had to leave at eight. I was…” He looked over at where Harry and Ron were sat, then said in a hushed whisper, “on a mission for Dumbledore. I’ve been tracking down werewolf groups, trying to persuade them to join our side.”

“Blimey,” Tonks said, a little taken aback, “that’s… isn’t that dangerous?” She tried to make her voice sound unconcerned and casual, but inside her stomach was churning. 

“It’s not so bad,” He replied, shrugging, “For now, anyway. Most of them haven’t yet been contacted by You-Know-Who or the Death Eaters, which is good.”

“Yeah, right.” Tonks replied, smiling uncertainly, and forcing herself to continue eating.

Despite starting in raucous laughter, the morning continued to go downhill. Sturgis Podmore did not turn up, and, realising they were one guard down, Mad Eye insisted they would have to abandon the plan. 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mad Eye,” Tonks said, panting as she rearranged her features into that of an elderly witch. “We’ll be fine, there’s still a load of us.”

Reluctantly, Mad Eye relented, and they set off. Tonks realised a few paces outside number 12 that there was a large, shaggy dog trotting beside them, and she rolled her eyes at Sirius’s boldness. Fortuitously, the journey to Kings Cross was quiet and uneventful, and even Molly seemed to soften a little as she watched Sirius leap around, clearly having the time of his life. Returning to platform 9 3/4s felt strange, Tonks mused, as she leant nonchalantly against the barrier and slid through with Harry. She hadn’t been back since her last year at Hogwarts, and she realised with a jolt that that was now four long years ago.

Once safely through to the platform, she, Harry, and Molly waited for the others. Mad Eye arrived, dressed in what Tonks assumed was meant to be a porter’s uniform, though on Moody’s large, overbearing frame it more closely resembled a muggle prison guard uniform. He was pushing a trolley filled with luggage, and Tonks began to help him unload it as Remus appeared through the archway, with Fred, George, and Ginny. Tonks smiled warmly at Remus and he returned it, flicking his eyes up to her grey, permed hair and raising a single eyebrow. It was a harmless exchange, but Tonks blushed furiously, wishing she could have chosen a more attractive disguise and cursing herself for plumping for the lined, aged face of a grandmother. 

“Well, look after yourselves,” Remus said kindly, shaking hands with each teenager in turn. When he got to Harry he patted him warmly on the shoulder and said, with genuine affection, “You too, Harry. Be careful.”

Tonks watched Harry’s face split into a warm smile and felt that familiar surge of fondness for Remus, who could so easily, so _selflessly,_ make others feel cared for.

“It’s been great meeting you all,” Tonks said, genuinely, pulling Hermione and Ginny in for a brief hug. “We’ll see you soon, I expect.”

The train whistle blew loudly, and Tonks was hit by another wave of nostalgia for Hogwarts. Sirius put his front paws up on Harry’s shoulders and she couldn’t help but laugh as Molly pushed Harry onto the train and tutted at the oversized dog. Then the red steam engine was surging forward, away from them, and she waved enthusiastically until it disappeared around a corner. 

They discovered quite why Sturgis Podmore had not turned up as part of the guard later that same day. He had been arrested for trying to break into the Department of Mysteries. Mad Eye was quite hysterical, and even Tonks felt shaken up. She didn’t know Sturgis particularly well, but she was sure that he would not attempt to do such a thing of his own accord, which left one horrifying possibility.

“Imperiused.” Mad Eye said sternly, as he paced up and down in front of the kitchen table in Grimmauld Place. “Must’ve been. And if they’ve got him, they could get any of us. Constant vigilance!” He barked suddenly, making Tonks jump. 

“We don’t know that, Alastor,” Remus said, reasonably. “There’s no need to cause undue panic. I for one will be interested to hear what Dumbledore thinks. Have you heard from him yet?”

“Not yet,” Moody said severely. “Bastard’s got my invisibility cloak, too.” He swore again, still pacing, his false leg clattering noisily on the flagstone floor. “We should increase the guards outside the Department. Day and night watch. Twenty-four hours.”

“Bloody hell, Mad Eye, when exactly are we meant to sleep?” Tonks said, irritated, “I haven’t been home for almost three days now.”

Sirius’s head snapped up and he said keenly, “You could move in here!”

“I…” Tonks said unsurely, unable to stop herself turning to Remus, who was looking resolutely at the table.

“Oh, come on, it makes sense. There’s plenty of room, especially now the kids have gone back to school. It’ll be fun!” And Sirius looked so excited that Tonks couldn’t help but agree. She thought, too, that she saw the faintest trace of a grin on Remus’s face.

It didn’t take long to move her things into Grimmauld Place. She’d never really been one for hoarding lots of stuff, and all her clothes, books, and personal effects fitted comfortably into two suitcases. As she shut the door to her flat, she felt strangely excited. Grimmauld Place certainly wasn’t a paradise, but she was looking forward to not living alone. As an only child, Tonks had often felt lonely growing up, and she had loved Hogwarts with its plush, cosy Hufflepuff common room and shared dormitory. Besides, Tonks conceded, making her way carefully down the tower-block stairs, she spent most of her time at Grimmauld Place now, anyway, and it was far more convenient for Order duties, being so close to the Ministry and where Remus was living. 

_Remus._ Her heart surged with something like excitement, and she thought, curiously, of what he would be like to live with. She’d seen him in his pyjamas that morning, and she remembered now his bare feet and the adorable way his hair had looked, messy from sleep. Bill’s words replayed in her mind again, _you’ve got to at least try, Tonks,_ and she almost missed the bottom step, stumbling unsteadily onto the ground floor. She would just see how things went, she decided, pushing out onto the street and heading for her usual disapparation spot. Maybe if it was meant to be, it would all just click together. But even as this thought crossed her mind, she berated herself cynically. Life didn’t work like that. Or at least, her life never seemed to work like that. 

Her arms were aching by the time she reached the top step of number 12. She should have cast a weightless charm on the suitcases, but in her rush to get back she had simply forgotten. She put one suitcase down, drew her wand, and tapped the door, which opened smoothly and admitted her inside.

“Hello, Tonks,” Remus was at the kitchen door, leaning against the frame, hands in his pockets, his voice low so as to avoid waking Mrs Black. “Want a hand?” He stepped forward before she answered, covering the hall in five long strides to take a suitcase from her. 

“Thanks,” She said, gratefully, and together they began to make their way up the narrow stairs to the fourth floor.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright in here?” Remus asked as they set her suitcases down on the lumpy bed of the box room. “You can have my room, if you like, it’s much bigger.”  
“Don’t be silly, Remus. I’ll be fine in here.”

He nodded, looking as though he wanted to argue, but seemed to think better of it and instead said, “Sirius is cooking tonight. He says it’ll be ready for six, so I’d come down for about seven thirty.” Smiling, he left the room, closing the door behind himself. 

True to Remus’s prediction, they didn’t eat until gone eight. It was just the three of them that evening. Molly and Arthur had returned to the burrow, Dumbledore, McGonagall, and Snape were all doubtlessly tucking into the start-of-term feast, and Mad-Eye was on duty. Sirius, Tonks was surprised to find, was actually a fairly decent cook. He made them steak and kidney pie with mashed potatoes and vegetables, and they all ate hungrily, in contented silence. 

“So, what do you guys get up to of an evening?” Tonks asked, as she collected their empty plates and set them washing with a flick of her wand.

Sirius and Remus looked at each other and laughed, then Sirius said, “We drink, mainly, and reminisce. Like old men in a pub.” 

“Speak for yourself, Padfoot,” Remus replied, smiling, “ _You_ drink, and I reminisce.”

“Well I could definitely go for a drink about now,” Tonks said, and, giving Sirius a questioning look, she asked, “What’ve you got?”

“What _haven’t_ we got is the question,” Sirius laughed, “Bunch of alcoholics, my lovely family. C’mon, lets go to the drawing room.”

They left the warmth of the kitchen, tiptoed through the hallway and up to the first floor, where the drawing room was. Now that it had been cleared out, it looked almost hospitable. Two plush leather sofas sat in the centre of the room, facing each other, with a low, polished table between them. The cupboards and cabinets that had so recently been filled with all kinds of dark artefacts were bare and clean, and now that the curtains had been cleared of doxies they hung, almost regally, across the windows. Remus lit the fireplace with a lazy wave of his wand and they all sank into the sofas, Remus and Sirius on one side and Tonks on the other. 

“This,” Sirius said, lifting an ornate bottle out of the side table by the sofa, “is finest goblin-made wine.”

“Fucking hell,” Tonks said, unable to stop her mouth dropping open, “that must be worth a thousand galleons!”

“More, probably.” Sirius said casually, shrugging. “Can’t sell it though, look,” And he held it up so that Tonks could see the ornate, circular stamp on the label of the bottle which marked it as the property of the Black house. “Take it out of the house and it turns to vinegar. That was one of my father’s little charms. He started doing it after he discovered the Regulus and I had been sneaking alcohol into Hogwarts. So, unfortunately,” He tapped the cork with his wand, “we have to drink it.”

Tonks laughed and accepted a large glass of the pale, amber liquid. She held it to her nose and sniffed. She’d never drunk anything particularly expensive before, and she didn’t know if she was supposed to swirl it round her mouth like she’d seen muggles do on old television programmes she used watched with her father as a child. She was relieved when Remus accepted a glass and took a large sip straightaway. She copied, wincing slightly at the intensity of the alcohol.

“Merlin, that’s strong.” She said, and Remus chuckled.

“Double the strength of elf-made wine,” He said, looking at Sirius, “which probably explains why Sirius is so often hungover.”

Sirius made a face at his friend, took a large gulp of wine, and sighed contentedly. 

“So, cousin,” He said to Tonks after a few moments, “tell me, what family gossip have I missed after so much time away.”

They fell into easy conversation, the three of them. Sirius laughed easily, and Tonks was relieved that his trip outside seemed to have improved his mood considerably, rather than reminding him of the freedom he couldn’t have. Remus and Sirius seemed to be able to communicate without talking, giving each other small looks throughout the evening that sent them into bursts of sudden, uncontrollable laughter. Tonks realised that the wine was starting to go to her head. She felt warm and content, watching the two men wheezing and giggling like schoolboys. When Sirius turned to her and said, quite seriously, “So, Tonks, have you got a boyfriend? Girlfriend, maybe?” she struggled not to laugh in his face.

“No,” She said, unable to stop herself from looking at Remus, who was once again avoiding her eye. “I’ve hardly got time to have a leisurely bath, Sirius, let alone a relationship.” 

“You should get out there! Merlin knows I would, if I could. Gods, I haven’t had a shag for _years._ ” 

“Way too much information!” Tonks laughed, taking another gulp of wine. “I dunno, I just don’t have time at the minute, to meet anyone.” Again, she looked at Remus, and found that he was now looking at her too, his face flushed but unreadable.

“So go out and find someone!” Sirius said, sitting up, “I keep saying to Remus, you’ve got the whole world at your feet, go for it!”

“And _I_ keep telling you, I’m not interested,” Remus said, quietly.

“Oh, come on, Moony, you’re not a fucking Priest.” Sirius retorted, pouring himself more wine. 

“No,” Remus conceded, “just a werewolf.”

“Oh, stop being so down on yourself. You deserve a shag as much as the next man.”

“While I appreciate the sentiment, Padfoot, I don’t think this is the most appropriate conversation for us to be having.” Remus said, calmly, catching Tonks’ eye and looking quickly away. 

“Fine, fine.” Sirius said, leaning back into the sofa. “Surprised you two haven’t gone for it yet, to be honest.” 

“Sirius!” Remus said, and his voice was harsher now, all traces of humour gone. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop! But I reserve the right to say ‘I told you so’ when we do find you in Kreacher’s cupboard.”

“I think we could find a better place than _Kreacher’s cupboard,_ ” Tonks said, with disgust, and Sirius laughed, loudly. 

Later, Tonks helped Remus walk Sirius to his bedroom. Sirius was by far the drunkest of the three of them, and they laid him on his bed carefully, pulling off his shoes and tucking a blanket over him. As he pulled the door closed behind them, Remus said quietly to Tonks, “He’s upset about Harry leaving, I think. He won’t admit it, but I can tell.”

“It’s understandable,” Tonks said, leaning against the bannister and massaging her shoulder, which was still sore from that morning and now ached from Sirius’s weight too. 

“Thanks for helping me with him,” Remus said, smiling, and Tonks shrugged.

“Goodnight, Remus.” She said, and before she knew what she was doing she was stepping towards him, pushing herself onto tiptoes and placing a small, careful kiss on his lips. 

Unwilling to see his reaction, she turned quickly and started up the stairs to her bedroom, leaving him blinking dazedly in the flickering candlelight of the landing.


	8. Love Cuts the Strings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The tension finally breaks.

Remus did not follow her up the stairs. But he also didn’t avoid her the next morning, or in the days that followed. He seemed to have decided that the peck Tonks had given him had been something of a drunk mistake; one that was best left in the small hours of the morning on the third floor landing. And so, they continued their now familiar routine. 

Tonks settled into Grimmauld Place quickly. She enjoyed Sirius’s company, finding that he reminded her in a strange way of her mother; they both had been black sheep of the Black family, after all. 

Sturgis Podmore’s arrest left a lingering sense of doom hanging over the next few order meetings. Dumbledore decided, quite prudently, Tonks thought, to suspend watches over the Apothecary, in order to facilitate increased surveillance missions on known Death Eaters. Arthur and Bill spent a miserable and rainy autumn evening following Corban Yaxley and Lucius Malfoy through Knockturn Alley, which they recounted with much complaint at an order meeting in early October.

Tonks glanced sideways at Remus as Arthur spoke, trying to gage his reaction to Malfoy’s boastful proclamations of muggle-torture that Bill had overheard. Remus’s face was – predictably – unreadable. He was leaning forwards, his elbows resting on the table, hands together as if in prayer. The light of a dying candle was reflected in his blue eyes, and Tonks had to tear her eyes away from him when Dumbledore said her name.  
“Tonks, Remus, you two shall attend this meeting between Yaxley and his associate on Friday evening.”

Remus nodded, and Tonks said, “Okey dokey,” cringing as soon as the words had left her mouth.

Dumbledore raised a single eyebrow at her, and continued, “I would warn you to be careful, however. The Imp’s Eye is _not_ the Hog’s Head. Be prepared to encounter a variety of interesting, and _dangerous,_ characters.”

Tonks knew of The Imp’s Eye, though she had never visited it. It was at the very bottom of Knockturn Alley, and she had heard all kinds of stories about it at work. Proudfoot had told her that he had once been called out to a disturbance there, and had found himself in the middle of a thirty-man duel, which had been incited by a succubus. It was a hotspot for all manner of dangerous creatures, including vampires, hags, and dark goblins, and Tonks did not relish the thought of spending Friday evening there, even if she would get to spend time with Remus.

When the meeting had ended and Dumbledore had left, Tonks turned to Remus.

“So, have you been to this place before?” She asked.

“Unfortunately.” He said, grimly, “It’s popular with werewolves. I’ve been there recently, trying to recruit for Dumbledore.”

“How’d that go?”

“Not well. They’re not much for talking, most of them. Especially the ones at The Imp’s Eye.” 

As Tonks wondered what he meant by this, Sirius slid into the seat opposite her and the conversation quickly moved onto Harry, and the new regime at Hogwarts under Umbridge. 

Friday came around quickly. Remus and Tonks ate with Sirius as usual, and then Tonks headed up to her room to get ready. She stood in front of the mirror and concentrated hard, turning her hair black and shortening it into a close-cut bob with a dramatic fringe. She changed the shape of her face slightly, making it longer and more severe looking, then she did her make up, adding dark purple lipstick to go with her pale skin. She pulled on a tight black dress and a pair of fishnet tights, grabbed her long leather coat, and sat on her bed to put on a pair of tall black heels. The finished look, she thought as she looked at herself in the mirror, was quite something. 

She wondered what Remus would wear, though she didn’t have to wonder for long, as when she clunked down onto the third floor landing he was waiting for her. He looked as he usually did, though the jacket he was wearing was a little more frayed than usual, and the cloak he had over one arm was black and patched. When he saw her he did something of a double take, and she felt heat bubble up at the base of her neck under his gaze.

“You look…” He started, trailing off and desperately trying to avoid looking at the low-cut neckline of her dress and her long, pale legs.

“Slutty?” Tonks said, with a grin that bordered on a smirk, and Remus flushed red and babbled something incomprehensible.

Tonks slid her arm through his and led him down the stairs and outside into the cold Autumn night. They disapparated from their usual spot under the oak tree in Grimmauld Place, appearing at the mouth of Knockturn Alley. Tonks pulled her cloak more firmly around herself; the wind was rushing in great gusts up the narrow alleyway and it was bitingly cold. Remus shivered next to her.

“C’mon,” she said, tugging his arm, “let’s get this over with.”

Together, they started down the gloomy steps towards The Imp’s Eye. Tonks noticed happily that Remus still had his arm hooked through hers, and seemed in no hurry to remove it. The further into Knockturn Alley they went, the darker it seemed to get. Tonks could see the sign of The Imp’s Eye reflected in the dull moonlight, and they moved towards it quickly, finally reaching the battered, pealing door. 

“After you,” Remus said, and he withdrew his arm from hers and pushed the door open.

Tonks stepped inside. It was just as dark as outside, perhaps even darker. She could just make out a bar in the far corner, and there were lots of tables squeezed together, separated by thin dividers. It was fairly busy already. She could see groups of bodies sat around the tables, and, she realised with a jolt, several couples, pressed up against walls in a variety of compromising positions. She looked anxiously at Remus, who shrugged and motioned towards a table.

“I said they weren’t interested in talking in here,” He said, as they sat down next to each other on a long, plush sofa that faced out into the crowded room.

“So, this is, what? A sex dungeon?” She asked incredulously, unable to keep the shock from her voice.

Remus chuckled darkly, “Something like that,” He said, then added quietly, “It’s also a hotspot for banned potion-trading, fire-crab baiting, and about fifty other illegal pursuits.”

“I should just arrest everyone in here and be done with it,” Tonks said, only half-joking. 

Remus smiled and got up to get them drinks. Tonks watched him approach the bar, enjoying watching his tall, elegant silhouette weave through the tables. He reached the bar, and leant against it. He fitted in remarkably well, she thought, considering most of the time he led the life of a librarian. She was about to look away and check the doorway for any sign of Yaxley when she saw another figure approach the bar and stop, just short of Remus. This figure was female, Tonks could tell, but whether it was human she couldn’t decipher. It was just as likely to be a vampire or a hag. Remus moved a little away from the newcomer, but she followed him, stepping in close and leaning forward to say something. Then she was wrapping an arm around his neck, and trying to pull him in, nuzzling into his neck. Remus pushed her away firmly, and Tonks heard the sharp edge of her voice as the woman – or creature – swore at him. 

“What was that all about?” Tonks asked when Remus returned clutching two pints a few minutes later.

“Werewolf,” Remus said, setting one of the pints down in front of her, his face stony. “Wanted to- well, I’m sure you can imagine.”

“Blimey.” Tonks said, sipping her drink and cringing, “Merlin, what the hell is this?”

“Ale, apparently,” Remus replied, sniffing his own suspiciously. 

Tonks watched him for a moment. He wouldn’t look her in the eye, and after a while she said gently, “You okay?”

He nodded and put down his glass, then said a little shakily, “Yeah, I’m fine. It’s tough, being around other- especially with you. I don’t want you to think… think that I’m like that. A monster. Unable to control myself.”

“Remus,” Tonks said softly, reaching out a hand across the table and squeezing his fingers, “It’s okay. I trust you. Gods, Remus, you’re one of my best friends. I know you’re not like that- like them.”

“It’s not their fault,” Remus said quickly, “It’s hard for them. The prejudice, the _hatred_ most wizards have for my kind. They have nowhere else to go, no one else to be with.”

Tonks didn’t know what to say. She watched Remus take a sip of his ale, and squeezed his hand again, harder than before, as though she could make him feel better with just the strength of her grip. She was about to say something reassuring when the door to the pub opened and Yaxley stepped in, looking as evil as ever. He was wearing sharp black robes, his collar pulled up high to cover his jaw, an expression of disgust and disinterest on his stern face. Remus had seen him too, and he leaned back into the shadow of the seat, eyes fixed on Yaxley as he moved through the room towards their table. As he passed, he gave Tonks a lecherous look, eyes pausing to run over her chest and up one stocking-clad leg. Next to her, Remus stiffened and sat up a little straighter, but Yaxley moved away into the darkness. 

“How dare he-” Remus said, with more anger than Tonks had ever heard from him, “how _dare_ he look at you like that.”

“He’s a creep, Remus. Kingsley warned me about him last week,” Tonks said, as Remus scowled and took another swig of ale. 

Seconds later, a second figure entered the pub. This man was huge; his broad, looming frame almost didn’t fit through the doorway. Tonks didn’t recognise him, but from Remus’s reaction, he did. 

“Fuck,” Remus said quietly, panic etched over his face, “It’s Greyback. He can’t see me. If he sees me, our cover is blown. I have to-” He looked around desperately, but there was nowhere to hide in the cramped, overcrowded room. 

Tonks didn’t think about what she was doing, she just moved instinctively, pushing herself off of the sofa and climbing into Remus’s lap.

“What are you doing?!” Remus hissed, as she shifted forward, trying to cover him from view. He was so tall that even with her in his lap, the top of her head only reached his chin.

“Saving our lives.” She whispered harshly, and she pulled his head down and pressed their lips together.

For a second he was completely still, then Tonks ran a hand up his neck and into his hair, and he let out a tiny moan and began kissing her back. Tonks suddenly felt like her whole body was alight. The spike of adrenaline that had lurched through her at Greyback’s appearance combined with the thrill of kissing Remus again sent fire rushing through her veins. 

Remus, too, seemed entirely overwhelmed. Tonks could feel his fingertips digging into the flesh of her hips, holding her to him, and he was kissing her with such passion that she thought she might explode. He opened his mouth against hers and sucked at her lower lip, biting it gently before running his tongue along it. She moaned, louder than she had intended, and rocked her hips into his, desperate for friction. Remus gasped into her mouth, and the sound went straight to her core. 

“We need to get out of here,” Remus whispered against her lips, “before he sees me.”

Tonks didn’t want to move away, and neither, it seemed, did Remus. He kissed her once more, gently, and then she pushed herself off of him and risked a glance round. Greyback had joined Yaxley at a table at the very rear of the pub.

“He won’t see us if we go now,” Tonks hissed, sliding along the sofa and holding her hand out to Remus, “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

He took her hand and together they wound their way through the tables to the door, neither of them daring to look back at the Death Eater and Werewolf. Tonks pushed the door open and let Remus slide out first, pulling her cloak back on against the chill wind. They didn’t speak as they hurried back up Knockturn Alley, hand in hand. Tonks morphed her face back to its usual features, and turned her hair a familiar pink, smiling when Remus turned to look at her. There was a familiar, heavy tension between them, and it took all of Tonks’ reserve not to push Remus up against the wall there and then. At the mouth of the alley they turned as one and appeared in the bright streetlight of Grimmauld Place, on the bottom step of number 12. 

Remus’s hand shook as he pulled out his wand and tapped the front door. They tumbled inside together, gave a cautionary glance to check the hallway was empty, and then moved as one in silent agreement, Tonks pulling Remus to her so that he had her crowded against the front door. He bent down and kissed her, hard, and she whimpered, clutching at his robes, needing _more._ He moved his lips away from hers and kissed his way down her neck. She breathed in the scent of Earl Grey that clung to his hair. 

“Kreacher’s cupboard?” She asked, breathless and giggling, and he pulled away to look at her, pupils blown wide with desire.

“Oh,” He said, grinning almost wickedly, “I think we can find a better place than _Kreacher’s Cupboard._ ”

He tugged her away from the door and they stumbled down the hallway, hand-in-hand, past the mounted House Elf heads, past Mrs Black’s covered painting, and up the stairs. Remus was taking the stairs three at a time, and Tonks struggled to keep up, almost tripping several times. They reached the third floor landing and Remus pulled her into his room, closing the door behind them.

They stood, looking at each other for several moments, both breathless and grinning like schoolchildren, then Tonks took two steps towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss her again. 

This kiss began gently, almost timidly. In Remus’s candlelit bedroom, surrounded by his things – his cloak, hanging on the back of a chair, a pile of his books, stacked in the corner, two pairs of shoes, neatly lined up by the wardrobe – everything suddenly felt much more real. Tonks’ heart was racing, and she was sure Remus must be able to hear it, or feel it against his chest. His hands were in her hair, fingertips rough against her scalp. The tension that had been building between them since that first day in the gloomy kitchen seemed to crescendo, and Tonks pushed Remus back towards the bed. He went willingly, sitting on the edge, pulling her to stand between his open thighs. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He said quietly, running the back of his hand over her face, down her neck and across her waist, his knuckles just barely skimming the side of one breast. 

“Please, Remus,” Tonks whispered shakily, “undress me.”

He tugged at the hem of her dress and pulled it up, over her head. She slid the tights down her legs and toed off her heels so that she stood before him in just her underwear. He pressed a kiss between her breasts, hand coming up behind her to unclasp her bra. He fiddled for several moments, then Tonks laughed and reached up to do it for him.

“Sorry,” Remus said, suddenly bashful again, but she kissed him soundly and pulled the bra off, letting it drop to the floor between them.

“Oh,” He said, looking at her, reaching up to cup one breast in his hand.

She bent down and kissed him again, gasping when he brushed his thumb across her nipple. She reached for his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders, then moved to start unbuttoning his shirt. He stopped kissing her and grabbed her wrist.

“Are you sure-” He stuttered, looking up at her, “Are you sure you want this?”

Tonks smiled and said softly, “I want you, Remus.”

“Okay,” He said, and he pulled the shirt up and over his head.

Tonks ran a hand along the broad length of his shoulder, tracing a long, pale scar that ran from his collarbone to his bicep. There were other scars covering his torso; interlocking and crossing each other, some old and white and others new and still pink. He was thinner than she had expected him to be, but she could see the definition in his shoulders, the lean muscles of his abdomen. He was tense under her gaze, she realised, and she placed a kiss in the hollow of his throat and said quietly into his ear, “you’re beautiful.”

He laughed, mockingly, but she kissed him again, trying to put all her desire into it, to prove to him that he was desirable and magnificent and that she _wanted_ him, more than she’d ever wanted anyone or anything in her life. Whether it worked or not she didn’t know, but Remus stood and turned them, lowering her to the bed so that he was hovering above her. He kissed his way down her body, all the way to the waistband of her knickers. She arched off the bed desperately and he pulled them off, placing open mouthed kisses to her thighs.

“Remus,” Tonks said, breathless with impatience, “I want you. Please.” 

She pulled him up so that she could kiss him again, reaching for the top button of his trousers. She undid them quickly, and he pushed them down past his hips, kicking them off. She reached for him then, hard and heavy in her hand, and guided him to her, so that the searing heat of his cock was pressed against her centre. He slid in, slowly, stopping when their hips met, and kissed her.  
“Gods _,_ Dora,” He breathed against her lips, his voice deeper than usual.

“ _Please_ , Remus,” Tonks said, running a hand down his back, feeling the pattern of scars beneath her fingertips.

He began to move, thrusting into her desperately, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her throat and neck. It was pleasure like Tonks had never felt before. Every nerve in her body was alive with ecstasy, and every movement of Remus’s hips sent her closer and closer to the edge.  
“ _Fuck,_ ” Remus said into her neck, “I’m not- I’m not going to last, Dora. _Fuck._ ”

The sound of his voice, rough and coarse, sent shockwaves of pleasure through her, and she felt herself clenching around him, coming harder than she ever had before, clinging to him and crying out. Remus thrust into her - once, twice - and then he came undone above her, burying himself inside her as she trembled with the aftershocks of her own orgasm. 

Afterwards, they lay together in the quiet of Remus’s room, naked and wrapped in each other’s arms. Tonks’ head was resting in the crook of his arm, and she absentmindedly traced a scar on his stomach as he stroked her hair. 

“I’m sorry if that was a bit- a bit quick.” Remus said, and she looked up, unsurprised to see that he was blushing.

“Remus, that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” She said, truthfully, laying her hand out over his chest so that she could feel his heart beating steadily beneath her palm. 

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

She fell asleep with the steady beat thrumming reassuringly against her hand, sated and content and happier than she’d felt in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't generally write smut, so I hope this felt true to character and realistic.  
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting. This little story has really kept me going through a second national lockdown. I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up, but it'll probably be sometime this week.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	9. An Antidote to Strychnine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tonks tries to prove how she feels about Remus.

When Tonks awoke, the bed was empty. She opened her eyes, blinking in the harsh early-morning sunlight, and looked around. Remus was sat in the chair by the desk, tying his shoelaces, already fully dressed.

“Where are you going?” She said softly, and he jumped a little.

“I need to send a message to Dumbledore,” He replied, not looking up from his shoe, “about Greyback; warning him that he’s back in England.”

“Come back to bed afterwards?” Tonks said languidly, and he looked up.

His face was ashen white, and he had dark circles under his eyes as though he hadn’t slept.

“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea, Tonks.” He said, quietly, pushing himself out of the chair.

“I think it’s an excellent idea.” Tonks replied.

She moved to sit up and pulled back the covers. She was still naked, and when she stood and approached him, he kept his eyes resolutely on her face, as though he was scared to look at her.

“Remus, what’s wrong?” She said, stopping a few feet from him.

“I need to send this message.” He said, almost coldly, and he turned away from her. “You should get dressed and get back to your room.” He left, closing the door behind him with a soft _click._

Tonks stood, silent and shocked for several moments, then grabbed her dress from the floor, pulled it over her head, and went after him.

Her head was buzzing madly as she headed downstairs. She couldn’t understand the wild change in attitude that seemed to have overtaken him in the few short hours since they’d slept together. Last night he had been a little tentative, but he had wanted her; she’d known he had. Images flashed through her mind: his eyes, dark with lust; the way he had kissed her in the Imp’s Eye; and the desperate, keening press of his fingers against her hips. Then later, when he’d been inside her and he’d held her as though she was the only thing that mattered, pressing hot, wet kisses to the sides of her throat. Did he regret what they’d done? Was he going to try and pretend that it hadn’t happened?

She reached the door to the kitchen and pushed it open slowly. She just glimpsed the hazy, unclear shape of his Patronus as it left through the back door. Remus was stood against the kitchen counter, hip resting against it. His head was in his hands. Tonks cleared her throat and he looked up.

“Remus,” She began, uncertainly, stepping into the kitchen and shutting the door behind her, “are you okay?”

“I’m not- I don’t know.” He said, and he looked like a lost child.

She approached him cautiously, worried that he was going to turn and flee if she moved too fast. He didn’t, and when she reached him and pressed herself close to him, wrapping her arms tightly around his waist, he let her.

“I’m sorry,” He said, quietly. “I should never have- _Gods,_ I’m so sorry, Tonks.”

Tonks pulled away and looked up into his face. He was still as white as a sheet, the thin pattern of faded scars on his face almost invisible against his pallid complexion.

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?!”” He said, incredulously, and his voice was suddenly loud in the quiet of the kitchen, “I’m a werewolf, Tonks, and you’re- Gods, I’m a fucking monster! I should never have taken advantage of you, never-”

“Taken advantage!?” Tonks replied, trying to keep her voice level and low, aware that Sirius was upstairs. “What are you _talking_ about, Remus? I _wanted_ to sleep with you - I still _want_ to! I don’t care that you’re a werewolf, I want _you –_ don’t you understand?”

Remus stared at her silently for a few seconds, and then very quietly said, “No. I don’t understand. I don’t understand how you could possibly want someone- someone like me.”

Tonks laughed then, but it was hollow and humourless. “You’re kidding, right? You were there last night, weren’t you?”

“Of course I was, and it should never have happened, I should never have-”

“If you say ‘taken advantage of you’ once more, I’ll hex you.” Tonks hissed, moving her hand to the pocket of her dress, over the handle of her wand.  
“Look at me,” He said, sternly, moving away from the counter and holding his arms out by his sides. “Look at me, Tonks. How could you possibly want this- want me? I’m old, and I’m dangerous. I can barely afford to live, I can’t hold down a job; I’ve got nothing to give you.”

Tonks looked at him. He was wearing the same trousers from last night, dark grey, a little baggy, and a soft, grey sweater that had been patched up several times. The shirt underneath it was white but faded, the collar a little wonky. His face, now flushed with the heat of their argument, was once again visibly lined with scars, the stubble on his jaw overgrown and messy, almost ginger in the sunlight. His hair had fallen across his forehead and Tonks could see that this, too, was dabbled with red. He was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

She didn’t answer him. She closed the gap between them and placed the palm of her hand against the side of his face. His skin was soft, his beard rough. 

“Kiss me,” She whispered, letting her eyes flick to his lips and then back up.

“I…” Remus replied, but the fight had left him now, and the tension in his shoulders had gone as soon as she’d touched him.

“Kiss me, and tell me it feels wrong.” She repeated, pushing herself onto her tiptoes, stroking her thumb along his cheek bone.

He bent towards her, meeting her halfway, the barest brush of his lips against hers.

“Tell me it feels wrong,” She said again, but he said nothing, and instead dipped his head to capture her lips in another kiss. 

Tonks was painfully aware that they were in the middle of the kitchen, and that although Sirius never usually got up before nine, they risked being interrupted. 

“Come back to bed,” She said against his lips, and he let out a tiny, pained moan, his voice once again rough with desire.

“I still don’t-” He said, between kisses, “I don’t understand… how you can… want this.”

“I’ll show you,” She whispered, and she moved her lips from his mouth to his cheek, down along his cheekbone, to the underside of his jaw. 

She bit gently at the juncture of his neck, pushed aside the collar of his shirt and placed a line of open-mouthed kisses along his collarbone. She pulled her wand from her pocket, pointed it at the door behind her and whispered against his skin ‘colloportus’. The lock clicked loudly. She dropped to her knees in front of him, and the sound he made  – a low, guttural moan – sent a rush of heat straight through her. The flagstone floor was cold and hard beneath her knees, but she didn’t care. 

“Dora,” He said, his voice strained, “what- what are you doing?”

In response, she ran her hands up the legs of his trousers, to the top button of his flies, and undid it. 

“Oh,” He said quietly. “You don’t have to-” But she cut him off, shushing him impatiently, and moved her hand over his crotch.

She could feel that he was half-hard already, just from the sight of her on her knees in front of him. When she pressed her mouth against the solid heat of him through his trousers he gripped the kitchen counter and swore under his breath, breaking her eye contact to look up at the ceiling. She undid the rest of his buttons and he looked down at her again. Holding his gaze, she pulled his trousers out of the way, down his hips slightly, and then traced along the solid ridge of him with the palm of her hand, teasingly, before hooking her fingers into his boxers and pulling those down too. He was almost painfully hard now, head swollen and red, and she dropped her eyes and licked one long stripe from the base to the tip. 

“ _Fuck,”_ He swore again, gripping the kitchen counter tighter than ever, his knuckles white against the solid black of the wood.

When she took him into her mouth he groaned loudly, and, very cautiously, placed one hand on the back of her head, just the merest ghost of his fingers in her hair. Tonks made a noise of appreciation, and he tightened is grip slightly, so that he was holding her to him. It was unimaginably erotic. Heat was pooling at her centre as she moved over him, and soon she could feel her own wetness running down her thigh. She altered her technique, focusing her tongue on the tip, using her hand to stroke the thick length of him, and he groaned, deep and throaty. She looked up at his face. His head was tipped back, mouth slightly open, an image of utter bliss painted across his features. Whether he could feel her eyes on him or whether he simply happened to look down, she didn’t know, but he did, and as their eyes met Tonks felt suddenly, overwhelmingly _alive,_ his pleasure coursing through her own veins. Remus seemed affected too, because his grip on the back of her head was tightening a little, and he was making small, continuous noises of enjoyment. After a while she felt his fingers loosen in her hair, and then he was trying to pull away from her.

“Dora, _fuck,_ I’m gonna-” He said, desperately.

She moved with him, keeping her mouth around him, wanting to feel him lose himself inside her. 

“ _Oh Gods,”_ He stuttered out, grabbing at her head again, twisting his fingers into her hair.

Then he was coming in hot spurts into her mouth. She worked him through his orgasm, stroking him, using her tongue on the underside of his cock until he collapsed back against the kitchen counter, spent and flushed. 

Tonks stood, and leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his lips. She was sure he would be able to taste himself on her lips, and this thought sent another ripple of pleasure through her. She readjusted his trousers, did up his flies and kissed him again, letting her tongue trace his bottom lip, then pulled back to look at him. He was slumped against the counter, ruddy-faced, hair thoroughly disheveled. 

“Does that make things a little clearer?” Tonks said, kissing him again on the side of the neck.

His hand came up to cup her cheek.

“You are… _incredible,”_ He said softly.

She laughed, “Ha, I’ve not heard that one before. I-”

A sudden burst of bright light came swooping through the kitchen window, landing on the table in front of them. It was Dumbledore’s Patronus, a brilliant white phoenix.

“Calling a meeting tonight. Seven thirty. Headquarters” It said in Dumbledore’s calm, considered voice, then vanished.

“Good timing,” Tonks said, then she looked at her watch and swore, “Shit. I’ve got to be at work in ten minutes. I’ll see you tonight at this meeting. Don’t… don’t think too much while I’m gone,” She added, kissing him once last time before turning to dash upstairs and change.

Work was long and dull. Tonks was sent on two jobs, but both turned out to be false alarms. All the time, her mind kept wandering back to Remus. She felt intoxicated by him, as though he had taken over her entire being, and she thought that if she didn’t see him again soon – if she didn’t get to kiss him, or pin him against the mattress of his worn bed or just _touch_ him  –  she might combust with longing. 

Tonks had never been in love. She’d been with precisely three people in her life, and none of them had ever made her feel anything like how she felt about Remus. The first, Tom Hopkins, whom she had asked out purely to win the bet against Bill, had turned out to be a bit of a jerk. She’d broken up with him within three weeks, when he’d made a snarky comment about one of Tonks’ friends. During their brief relationship they’d made out a few times behind one of the statues on the fourth floor corridor, and one afternoon they had both bunked off History of Magic and had sex on his bed in the boys’ dormitory. He had smelt vaguely of the herbology greenhouse, Tonks remembered, and he’d been an extremely selfish lover, though she supposed this was probably a result of his (and her) lack of experience.

In her seventh year she had had something of a one night stand with a Ravenclaw girl called Emily Abbott. Emily had been gentle and sweet, and Tonks had enjoyed the late summer evening they had spent together, under one of the large, towering trees surrounding the Lake. But it had been the last day of term, their last day at Hogwarts, in fact, and both had realised that they had no future together: Emily was moving to Egypt to become a curse-breaker and Tonks had already set her heart on Auror training. So they had simply enjoyed the time they spent together and then parted ways, each promising to write, both knowing they never would.

Last year, Tonks had had what she considered her first serious relationship with a man she met at work. Douglas had been handsome, in a chiselled sort of way, and extremely serious. Most of the time they had spent together had passed with Douglas speaking at her about various philosophical and epistemological debates, which often gave Tonks a headache and rarely led to any romantic conclusions. She’d broken up with him after six extremely long months.

And then there was Remus. They had known each other for four months now, Tonks realised as she gazed absent-mindedly at the stack of parchment she was supposed to be organising. Could you fall in love in four months? She thought about the panic in his face when he’d apologised for taking advantage of her, and the crumpled, defeated way he had put his head in his hands in the kitchen that morning, not thinking she could see him. It made her heart ache. 

He was so fragile, so delicate in his ability to receive affection. What she wouldn’t give for him to see himself as she saw him: beautiful and whole and so, so worthy. If she had to spend the rest of her life convincing him that she loved him and that he was deserving of that love, she would do it, without a second thought. It was this that carried her through the rest of her shift, until finally it was time to leave and she could dash out to her usual apparition spot.

Remus was in the hallway when she got inside number 12. He was fighting with Mrs Black’s painting, trying to close the curtains. Mrs Black was shrieking as usual, her face contorted into rage.

“FILTHY, WORTHLESS, HIDEOUS BEAST! MY HOUSE, MY REGAL HOUSE, BESMIRCHED-”

“Oh, shut up, you stupid old hag!” Tonks bellowed, charging down the hall to help Remus wrestle with her.

They finally managed to wrench the curtains closed and the silence that fell was like music to Tonks’ ears. 

“What happened?” She asked, pushing her hair, which was damp with sweat, out of her face.

“Kreacher,” Remus said breathlessly, “I think he did it on purpose.”

“Where’s Sirius?” Tonks asked, peering into the kitchen, which, from what she could see, was empty.

“Upstairs, with Buckbeak.”

She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him to her in a tight embrace. He was tense in her arms, but he relaxed after a moment, and she felt him press a kiss to the top of her head. 

“I missed you,” She said when she let him go, and he looked at her as though he couldn’t comprehend such a thing.

“I… I missed you, too,” He said, pushing his hands into his pockets, suddenly a little bashful. 

“I’ve gotta go and have a shower before this meeting,” Tonks said.

Remus nodded, and gestured to the empty kitchen, “I’m just cooking dinner. It’ll be ready when you’re down.”

She had a quick, searingly hot shower, then dressed and headed back downstairs. Remus and Sirius were already at the table when she entered the kitchen, and as she joined them Remus lifted the lid on a large dish, revealing a pie, which was steaming and bubbling. It was delicious and it seemed to warm Tonks from the bottom of her feet to the tips of her fingers. She leant back in her chair when she’d finished, and sighed contentedly.

“You never told me you could cook, Remus,” She said, and Sirius laughed.

“There’s a lot of things Moony can do that he keeps quiet about,” He said, nudging his friend with his elbow and winking at Tonks.

Tonks had to consciously stop herself looking at Remus’s hands then, and voices drifted back through her memory, _your hands, I think they're magic… it’s been said before._ Butterflies swooped through her belly, hot and sudden, and she felt herself blushing. She morphed it away and began collecting their plates to wash. 

At ten past seven, Order members began arriving. Dumbledore came last, stepping into the kitchen at exactly half past, accompanied by Severus, who looked as pleased as ever to be in Sirius’s house. The kitchen was cramped with bodies, and Tonks soon found herself pressed between Remus and Dedalus Diggle, the fire hot on her back. Dumbledore started the meeting, then allowed Remus to describe what they had seen in The Imp’s Eye.

“The last I had heard,” Remus said when he’d finished recounting (most) of their evening, hands folded in front on him on the table, face severe in the flickering light of the candle in front of him, “Greyback was in South America. He initially fled to Siberia when You-Know-Who first fell, but he left in ninety-three for Brazil. If he’s back in Britain, and meeting with Death Eaters, it means You-Know-Who is planning on recruiting werewolves again. None of the werewolves I’ve encountered over the past few months have heard anything, so it looks like he’s only just returned, which is good for us. We can be fairly sure he’ll start rounding individuals up soon, though, which was how it happened last time.”

“And you’re sure he didn’t see you last night, Remus?” Dumbledore said, seriously, looking at Remus over the top of his half-moon spectacles.

“Er, no, definitely not. We- I managed to hide myself.” He glanced at Tonks, who felt colour rising in her cheeks.

“He hid under the table,” She said, without thinking, and across the table, Sirius raised a single eyebrow at her, an incredulous look on his face.

“Good,” Dumbledore said, and Tonks felt Remus relax beside her when there were no further questions about their escape.

The rest of the meeting was spent in intense discussion about the nature and meaning of Greyback’s return. Dumbledore was determined that his arrival changed very little, and that the Order should continue their current operations, monitoring known Death Eaters, protecting the prophecy, and attempting to recruit as many allies as they could. Though he didn’t say anything, Tonks could tell that Remus was disappointed by this. From his reaction last night, it was clear that Remus knew Greyback, and Tonks thought it likely that he had fought the werewolf before. She felt guilty that she hadn’t asked him last night, or this morning, but they had been so caught up yesterday in getting away without being seen, and then so caught up with each other, that she hadn’t had the chance. 

When the meeting ended it was gone ten o’clock, and Tonks realised suddenly how tired she was. Remus was in deep conversation with Sirius, but as the kitchen emptied the pair broke apart, so that Sirius could speak to Molly before she left with Arthur and Bill. Tonks yawned widely and turned to Remus.

“Merlin’s beard, I’m exhausted,” She said, stretching back in her chair, arms above her head. “I think I’m gonna head upstairs…” She left the sentence open, unsure if he would take the hint.

“Uh, right,” Remus said, colour rising in his cheeks.

“I’ll be in my room, if you wanted to come and chat.” 

She stood up, stretching again, and noticed that Remus’s eyes trailed up the length of her, pausing on the small strip of flesh that was revealed under her jumper. She smiled to herself and left the kitchen, bidding Sirius and Molly goodnight. She could feel Remus watching her as she went, and it made her heart flutter pleasantly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the angst, but I hope it was mediated somewhat by the smut.  
> I struggled with this chapter, because honestly I just want Remus and Tonks to have the happy ending they both deserve, but also recognise the suffering and struggles that punctuate their story. I hope this hit the right balance.  
> Thanks once again for reading.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	10. Woke Up New

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter today. A little bit of angst; a little bit of fluff; quite a lot of Sirius being smug.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.

Upstairs, Tonks attempted to make her room look a little more inviting. It was constantly dark up here, as the only window faced straight out onto a tall tree in the garden. Most of the space was taken up by the old, rickety bed, which was in the corner, bracketed by three walls. She smoothed the covers, shoved the handful of clothes that were on the floor into the wardrobe, and then sat down on the bed. Within five minutes, there was a very quiet knock on the door, and Tonks called out, “Come in.”

Remus pushed the door open silently, and slipped inside. He looked a little ridiculous in the tiny bedroom, all arms and legs, his head almost brushing the low-hanging chandelier as he stepped towards her. 

“Hi,” She said, gently, and he smiled.

“Hello,” He replied, then “You wanted to talk?”

The way he said it made it sound like they had a business meeting planned, and Tonks smirked at him from the bed, then shuffled over and patted the space she had vacated. Remus watched her for a moment, then moved forwards, ducking to avoid the chandelier, and perched on the edge of the bed. She watched as he carefully unlaced his shoes and placed them by the bedside table, then he leaned back against the pillow and swung his legs onto the bed. When he had settled, Tonks rolled towards him, and he wrapped one arm around her, holding her loosely to him.

“I wanted to ask,” She began, tentatively, “about Greyback. How do you know him?”

She felt him tense a little beside her, then he let out a low sigh and said, “He was the one who bit me, when I was a child. To be honest, I don’t know if he would recognise me on sight now, but I couldn’t take the chance.”

“Oh,” Tonks said, feeling suddenly very sad, “I’m sorry, Remus, I didn’t know.”

“It’s okay.” He replied softly.

They sat quietly for several long moments, then Remus said, “He’s- he targets children. Young children. Turns them and then tries to take them from their families, to raise them to be like him. My father insulted him and in recompense he bit me. I was four.”

“Do you-” Tonks began the question without really thinking, then stopped upon realising that it was insensitive.

“I can remember it, if that’s what you were going to ask.” Remus said quietly.

He still had one arm wrapped around her, but he was looking at the wall opposite them, his expression unfocused.

“Gods. I- I’m really sorry, Remus. I can’t imagine- Gods.” She moved closer to him, pressing herself against his side, wanting to comfort him but unsure how to.

He was warm; she could feel the heat coming off of him even through his jumper. He made a vague noise of contentment when she wrapped an arm around him and laid her head over his chest. She could feel the sharp bones of his ribs against her cheek, and could hear the steady thumping rhythm of his heart. She watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. He’d trimmed his beard at some point while she’d been at work, so that the stubble on his face and neck was short and neat again, but still flecked with ginger in the dim light of her room.

“Stay in here tonight?” She asked him cautiously, placing a small kiss on the side of his jaw.

“I…” He said, swallowing thickly again.

“Please, Remus,” She said against the side of his neck, “I don’t want you to be alone tonight. _I_ don’t want to be alone tonight.”

He didn’t say anything, just looked at her with that same expression of bewildered wonder, as though he couldn’t quite believe that she was real. Tonks smiled and climbed over him to get out of the bed.

“I’m going to go and get ready.” She said, grabbing her wash bag from the top of the wardrobe. 

Remus nodded, and pushed himself to his feet too. They made their way downstairs together to the third floor bathroom. Tonks went in while Remus returned to his room. She brushed her teeth in front of the mirror, morphing her face comically to pass the time. When she’d finished, she unlocked the door and found Remus stood outside, holding his toothbrush in one hand, a pair of pyjama bottoms over the other arm. 

She flashed him a smile and was about to lean in and kiss him on the cheek when Sirius appeared at the top of the stairs. She stepped away from Remus quickly, towards the stairs up to her room.

“Evening, lovebirds,” Sirius said casually, smirking as he slipped between them towards his own room. “Don’t make too much noise tonight, please. I’d like to get _some_ sleep.”

Remus had turned the colour of beetroot wine, and he opened his mouth as if to protest, but before he could say anything, Sirius disappeared into his bedroom, closing the door behind him.

Tonks and Remus looked at each other in silence for a few moments, then Tonks felt the corners of her mouth twitch and she burst into a fit of slightly hysterical giggles. Remus’s mouth curved into a grimace, and he ran a hand through his hair shakily.

“ _Merlin,_ ” He said, rubbing the side of his jaw.

“He’s astute, I’ll give him that.” Tonks said, still giggling.

Back in her room, Tonks slid into bed as she waited for Remus. The sheets were cold against her skin, and she cast a quick warming charm, humming in contentment as the heat enveloped her. She was so tired that she began to drift off before Remus returned from the bathroom. She stirred a little when he opened the door, and then he was pulling back the covers and getting into the bed beside her. He lay a little away from her at first, facing her back. She shuffled back against him and he tentatively wrapped an arm around her, so that they were spooning beneath the warm duvet. She could feel his hip bones against the backs of her thighs, and the broad span of his shoulders as he held her. Tonks felt safe in his arms, and she fell asleep quickly, waking in the early morning light with Remus still pressed against her, his even, steady breathing telling her that he was still asleep. 

Yawning widely, she stretched a little, careful not to disturb him, and turned to face him. He looked younger in his sleep. His face was relaxed, the usual crow’s feet that traced his eyes soft and less prominent. His hair was messy, as it had been when she’d bumped into him coming out of the bathroom many nights ago. Tonks traced a fingertip along the largest scar that crossed his face, over his nose and across to his jaw. He wrinkled his nose, gave a tiny start, and opened his eyes blearily.

“Mornin’” Tonks grinned, as he winced in the light.

“Mmm,” He replied, and Tonks shuffled close to him again, so that they were pressed against each other, chest to chest, legs tangled beneath the blankets. 

“What time is it?” He asked, reaching over to the bedside table for his watch. 

“Early,” Tonks replied, as he rubbed his eyes and squinted at the face of the watch. “I’ve not got work today, anyway, and we’re not due at Malfoy Manor until dark.”

Their next mission for the Order was to keep tabs on precisely who was visiting Lucius Malfoy at his sprawling country house in Sussex. Tonks and Remus were next on the rota, and it was not a task Tonks was looking forward to; Kingsley had told her bitterly of just how cold and boring it was out on the dark moors overnight.

“We could…” She looked up at Remus, who was now securing his watch to his wrist, still a little bleary-eyed. “We could spend the day together, if you want.”

He looked at her then, that familiar expression of abject disbelief etched across his face. “I- You’d like that?”

“Of course! Gods, Remus, you really are hard on yourself, you know. I _like_ you. I thought I proved that yesterday morning.” She gave him a grin as she said this, and he flushed red, clearly remembering in vivid detail their encounter in the kitchen the previous day. “C’mon, I’m gonna have a shower. I’ll meet you downstairs in a bit, and we can decide what to do.” 

Tonks pushed herself up and climbed over him to get out of bed. She felt his fingertips brush the side of her hips as she passed him, and she smiled, placing a kiss on his cheek before grabbing her wash bag and leaving for the bathroom.

An hour later found them on the Thames foreshore. It had been Remus’s idea. Tonks had never been this close to the river before, and the harsh tang of salt on the wind reminded her of childhood holidays at the seaside. They walked side-by-side, and occasionally Remus would crouch down and pull something from beneath the claggy, soft mud. Within an hour he had collected two old clay pipes, a couple of golden coins, and a few shards of pottery. 

“I used to come here a lot,” He said as he handed Tonks another coin. “after the first war. I’d walk for hours, day after day. I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It must have been hard.” Tonks said, holding the tiny coin up so that she could examine it in the weak November sunlight.

Remus didn’t reply immediately, and from the distant, absent look on his face Tonks could tell that he was lost in thought. 

“I wish I could take it all away,” Tonks said after a moment, when Remus stood again and they resumed walking, “all the pain, everything you’ve been through. I wish I could just… take it away.”

“I don’t.” He replied, and his voice was strong and almost stern. “Of course, I wish that James and Lily… that Sirius hadn’t… but that pain, the pain of losing the people you love, it’s the risk one takes, Tonks. Without _love_ , all of this,” He gestured broadly, “means nothing. And pain is a part of that. It’s what Voldemort will never understand.”

Tonks slipped her hand into his. He didn’t pull away, and his palm was soft and warm in hers. They continued on along the shore in companionable silence, holding hands, until they reached a point where the tide had submerged the land and they were forced to turn back.

They returned to Grimmauld Place at noon, and found Sirius in the kitchen, eating a sandwich and preparing a bucket of dead rats for Buckbeak. 

“Urgh! Do you have to do that here?” Tonks said, as Sirius tipped a handful of rats from one bucket into another.

“It’s food, isn’t it?” Sirius asked, his mouth full, “And this is a kitchen, so…”

“It is a bit unhygienic, Padfoot.” Remus said, giving the bucket a disgusted look. “Can’t you do it somewhere a bit less obvious?”

“I might ask you the same question,” Sirius said, mouth twisting into a broad and rather boastful grin.

Remus flushed a livid red, and Tonks cleared her throat awkwardly. 

“Look, Sirius,” Remus said seriously, leaning forward to rest the palms of his hands on the table, so that he was bearing down on Sirius across the tabletop. “Whatever you’ve seen-”

“Or heard,” Sirius interjected, taking another bite of his sandwich.

“Or heard,” Remus rolled his eyes and Tonks bit back a laugh, “Whatever you’ve seen or _heard_ , is private. I mean it, Sirius. We’re not- this isn’t- Just, keep it to yourself, okay?”

“Now that you’re actually shagging, will you stop undressing each other with your eyes across the table every night?” Sirius said, still grinning, “Because I’ve got to say, it’s getting pretty irritating.” 

“Stop being such a smug arsehole, Sirius.” Tonks said calmly, reaching across and grabbing the other half of his sandwich from his plate where it sat on the kitchen counter. 


	11. Possum by Night

Tonks and Remus had to apparate to a small enclosed copse almost a mile away from Malfoy Manor for their lookout duty. Tonks landed unceremoniously in a muddy puddle with a splash. Remus, holding her hand, somehow managed to appear just at the edge of the puddle, and avoided getting his feet wet. He helped Tonks dry her shoes and robes and then they set off out of the copse, onto a narrow country road. It was bitingly cold, the harsh November wind rushing past them between the tall hedges on either side of them. Usually, Tonks would’ve conjured a small fire jar to keep her hands warm, but did not dare to as they approached Malfoy Manor. To reveal themselves would be suicidal. 

They did not speak as they traversed the winding lane. On either side of them, the tall hedges hid any sight of the Manor until it was almost upon them. They scrabbled up a steep bank, crouching low, and then found the towering willow tree that Kingsley had told them about. Remus conjured a ladder, and they each climbed up the tall, broad tree, settling on a wide branch which gave an excellent view of the road in front of the Manor, the large, sprawling driveway, and the house itself. It was huge. Ridiculously so, with high, dark windows and long brows of creeping ivy. 

“Creepy, isn’t it?” Tonks said as she leant back against the trunk of the tree. “I mean it’s massive, but it’s a bit…”

“Ominous.” Remus finished for her.

He looked a little comical perched in the gap between two bows of the tree, his long legs looped over a branch, cloak wrapped tightly about his shoulders.

“It figures, though,” Tonks said, thinking of Lucius Malfoy and his dark, menacing eyes and sneering face, “You ever met Malfoy? Right creepy bloke, he is.”

“I was at school with him, actually.” Remus said, “He was several years above me. He was a bully, even back then.”

“I can imagine.”

“Sirius jinxed him once, and he spent a whole week with two large onions growing out of each ear.” Remus said, and Tonks could hear the grin in his voice even though it was too dark to make out his features. 

“About Sirius…” Tonks began, but Remus cut in and said seriously, “He won’t tell anyone, don’t worry. He’s a pain in the arse but he’d never break a promise.”

“You made him promise not to tell anyone about us?” Tonks said. 

She didn’t know why, but this made her chest twinge uncomfortably, as though someone had snapped a string behind her ribs.

“Yes,” Remus said, “And he won’t, I’m sure of it, so you don’t need to worry.”

“I”m not worried about that, Remus,” She said, and the twinge turned into a dull ache. “I don’t mind if people know.”

“They can’t know, Tonks. _Gods,_ we shouldn’t even be-” He ran a hand across his jaw, and Tonks watched the dark shadow that was his body sag a little against the tree. 

“Why not?” She said, and despite the ache in her chest her voice was calm and clear. “Why shouldn’t we sleep together? We’re both adults, Remus. It’s not a _crime_ , for Gods’ sake.”

Remus took a shaky breath and sat up straight again, moving his hand from his face. “It might not be a crime, Tonks, but it’s not- it’s frowned upon. My kind, we don’t usually involve ourselves with non-werewolves. I wouldn’t want you to be… I’d hate if you were targeted because of this.”

“It’s sex, Remus; I’m not asking for your hand in marriage. You’re allowed to have a personal life, you know.” She tried to make her voice sound casual and unconcerned, but the ache was now pressing down into her stomach and she felt vaguely sick. 

She wanted to tell him that it wasn’t just sex, and that she didn’t want it to just be sex, but she was worried that saying such a thing would panic him, and he might push her away as he had the morning after they’d slept together. She squinted at him in the dim moonlight, trying to make out his expression, but it was as unreadable as ever.

“I… I suppose.” He said quietly after a moment, then he pressed a finger to his lip and pointed silently down the country road. 

Tonks whipped her head round and saw two cloaked figures hurrying towards Malfoy Manor. Both had their hoods pulled up to cover their faces and they were talking in raspy whispers. She couldn’t make out any of what they were saying, but they seemed to be having an argument. Remus pulled out a long string from his pocket that Tonks recognised immediately as one of the Weasley twins’ Extendable Ears. He handed her one string, pressed another to his own ear, and carefully threaded the flesh coloured end down the tree until it reached the grassy verge. Tonks pushed the string into her ear and closed her eyes to listen hard.

“… I’m not saying that, you stupid great imp!” Hissed a deep, breathy voice that Tonks knew belonged to Yaxley. “Look, I just don’t think we should try it until after Christmas. They’re coming round to our side, but we need more time.”

“You can tell the Dark Lord then, Yaxley.” Came the second voice, which Tonks did not recognise. “And you can tell him when I’m not around, because this had nothing to do with me.”

“You always were a cowardly piece of shit, weren’t you, Crabbe?” Yaxley replied harshly, and then Tonks heard the metallic sound of gates clanking open. 

She opened her eyes and watched as Yaxley and Crabbe passed through the Malfoy’s guided gates and began up the winding driveway. She watched them until they disappeared into the darkness of the front doorway.

“What the hell was that about?” She whispered at Remus.

“After Christmas…” Remus said musingly, and she could almost hear his brain whirring inside his head. “It might be something to do with the prophecy…”

“‘They’re coming round to our side’. What does that mean?” Tonks said aloud, considering the words carefully. “Werewolves? Could it be something to do with Greyback?” 

“No… no, I don’t think so.” Remus replied, scratching the side of his head with the tip of his wand, “Werewolves often scorn human contact and live in packs, but they’re not a homogenous group. This sounded more like… more like they were speaking of a race, or an organisation, perhaps.”

“Whatever it is, it can’t be good. _Gods,_ it’s freezing up here. My bum’s gone numb already.” Tonks shuffled around, wincing when a knot on the branch dug into her thigh. 

She felt Remus move next to her, and then felt a familiar encompassing warmth pass over her as his warming charm took effect. She shivered and huddled a little closer to him. 

“Thanks,” She breathed into the darkness, and she felt him relax a little as she settled against his chest. 

Absentmindedly, she moved her hand to rest on his leg, a little above his knee, and began tracing abstract patterns. She wondered if Yaxley and Crabbe would be the only visitors tonight; she hoped so, because she wasn’t sure how much longer she could sit in this tree, pressed against the branches, half-frozen in the howling wind. They had to stay at least until midnight, Dumbledore had been quite clear about that, but if they suspected that there was a significant meeting of Death Eaters they were to stay until the last member left. Tonks sighed, thinking longingly of her bed back at Grimmauld Place, which seemed like a paradise compared to this chilly tree. Next to her, Remus cleared his throat, and she realised she was still tracing patterns on his leg, and that her hand had drifted vaguely north. Her fingertips were now almost tantalisingly close to the join of his hips. He shifted again and swallowed audibly. 

“Tonks,” He said, and his voice came out breathy and a little hoarse.

“Yeah?” Tonks said, giving her voice the slightest tilt of a tease, so that it came out almost as a purr.

“You… ah…” He stuttered as she let her hand slide dangerously close to his crotch, up to the solid jut of his hipbone. 

She turned her head and pressed an open mouthed kiss against his neck. His pulse was racing against her lips, and she let her tongue lap at the juncture of his throat. She moved her hand back down again to trace patterns on the inside of his thighs and he swore under his breath.

“ _Dora…”_ He sighed, and his use of her nickname sent a blaze of arousal through her. “Merlin, you’ve got to stop… _Fuck.”_ He made this last exclamation when she squeezed him through his trousers, enjoying the hard heat of him against her palm. 

“Okay.” She said placidly, and she moved her hand away.

Beside her, he groaned.

The next few hours passed painfully slowly. Tonks was restless against the uneven bark of the tree. The ebb of arousal that had rushed through her dampened a little, but each time she accidentally brushed against Remus, or he repositioned himself and nudged her with a knee or an elbow, it ignited again, white hot and demanding. Even listening to his steady breathing made her want to crawl inside his skin and devour him. 

Remus, too, seemed distracted. She could feel his eyes on her, tracing her body and face. They didn’t speak much, each all too aware of the building tension between them, determined to finish the watch and then get home as soon as possible. 

No one else arrived at Malfoy Manor, and at dead on midnight, Remus stretched and cleared his throat, conjuring a ladder again to allow them to get down. He went first, jumping the last few feet. Tonks followed, and as she got to the last few rungs she felt his hands, large and warm, against her back, guiding her down. She wanted to shove him up against the tree there and then, but she resisted, instead taking his hand and almost marching him back along the country road towards the copse where they could disapparate. 

It was pitch black when they reached the small circle of trees. The moon and stars were covered by clouds, and she could only just make out the vague, blurred shape of him in the gathering fog. They stepped into the thickest reaches of the copse. Remus slipped his hand into hers, she assumed to disapparate, but then he was pushing her back, and before she knew what was happening he had backed her up against the tree. He kissed her with such care and delicately, almost chastely. His tongue stroked into her mouth, hot and perfect, and she moaned, bringing her hands up to clutch at his cloak. He moved away then, and she whispered into the darkness, “Remus, please.” 

She wasn’t sure quite what she was pleading for - for him to disapparate them both back to Grimmauld Place; for him to take her here, against this tree; or for something else, but he took her hand and turned on the spot. The suffocating darkness enveloped them both and then the bright streetlights of Grimmauld Place were assaulting her eyes.

They made it into the hallway of Grimmauld Place. Remus once again backed her unceremoniously against the front door, threaded his hand into her hair and began kissing her again. She closed her eyes, opened them, and saw Sirius stood in the doorway of the kitchen, mug in his hand, shit-eating grin on his face. 

Tonks pushed Remus away and said, a little bashfully, “Evening, Sirius,”

Remus turned around so quickly Tonks thought he was going to disapparate again. Sirius did a little wave from the bottom of the steps and stepped back into the kitchen. Remus looked back at Tonks and they both huffed out embarrassed laughs. 

“C’mon,” Tonks said, and she took his hand and pulled him down the hallway.

They took the stairs a little slower than last time, even stopping halfway up the second flight so that Tonks could press a kiss to Remus’s forehead, in reach only because he was three steps below her. They fell inside Remus’s room, and he lit the candles with a flick of his wand. Then he was back on her, hands bracketing her face as they kissed. She stepped backwards, pulling him with her to the bed, falling back a little gracelessly. He followed her and crawled up the bed to lay over her, their legs tangled. Where last time they had been a little unsure of each other, a little tentative, this time there was only desire and need. Remus kissed his way slowly down her body, pulling off her cloak and her dress, almost ripping her bra away from her breasts. When he pressed his mouth to her skin, and she felt his teeth graze her nipple she moaned loudly, not caring if Sirius heard, wanting only tostay in this glorious haze of passion. 

Remus settled himself between her thighs and pulled her knickers down slowly, letting his long, elegant fingers trace the insides of her thighs. She looked down at him, watching as he moved towards her, his hair unkempt from her hands, his eyes dark with lust. He slid a single finger into the wet heat of her and she groaned, fisting the sheets, head thrown back. When he lowered his mouth and began lapping at the delicate bundle of nerves at her centre she writhed and threaded her hands into his hair again. He added another finger and she felt him curl them, just _so,_ and then she was coming, oblivious to the desperate, keening noises she was making, lost in the pleasure of Remus’s tongue and fingers.

As she came down from the high she looked at him again, between her thighs. He was watching her like she was the most extraordinary thing he had ever seen, and she reached down and pulled him up to kiss him. She could taste herself on his tongue, and it made her moan against his lips. 

Remus was still fully dressed, although his cloak was half off, one arm hanging by his side. She pulled his other arm out, and then his jumper. She unbuttoned his shirt with shaking hands, and he helped, pulling it over his head when it was half undone. He stood then, next to the bed, and toed his shoes and socks off. There was a metallic _thud_ as his belt hit the floor, and then he was unbuttoning his trousers hastily, pushing them down his thighs. He climbed back onto the bed and she straddled him, pressing gentle kisses to his lips as she lowered herself onto him. She felt the thick heat of him against her entrance, and then he was pressing inside, stretching her. It was ecstasy again, white hot pleasure flooding through her. He shifted a little, moving so that he was buried even deeper inside her, and his fingers were gripping her hips, holding her to him. 

“ _Gods,_ Dora,” He whispered against her neck, “You’re unbelievable.”

She lifted herself, felt him slide out a little, and then rocked back slowly onto him. He groaned, deep and throaty, and squeezed the flesh of her hips, pulling her to him. She repeated the movement, and they settled into a gentle rhythm, the only sounds their harsh panting breaths and the soft creek of the mattress beneath them. Tonks ran her hands through his hair, across his neck and along the twisting scars of his shoulders, trying to memorise the pattern of them, the white, puckered flesh as beautiful to her as a winding stream. Remus was watching her, his blue eyes almost entirely obscured by the black ring of his pupils. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He said, kissing her fervently, trailing a hand up her waist to her breast. “So beautiful, so wet and tight around me,” He thrust into her, pressed a kiss to her throat and swore into her skin, “ _fuck,_ you’re incredible, Dora _.”_

With their foreheads pressed together, Tonks could see the deep blue of his eyes and the dark, barely noticeable ring of green just outside his pupils. Remus shifted slightly, leaning back against the headboard, pulling her hips into his. The change in angle allowed him to press deeper into her, and as she lowered herself back onto him she felt herself clenching around him, her second climax rushing through her suddenly and violently. Remus continued to hold her to him through her orgasm, and then he stilled, head buried in her neck, grunting breathlessly as he came inside her. 

“Fucking hell,” Tonks gasped when he collapsed onto her, spent. “That was… that was fucking amazing” 

Remus rolled off her, still breathless, and she could see beads of sweat in his hairline. He smiled, pulled her to him and kissed her again, gently, as his fingertips traced her sides. Tonks could feel her heart slamming against her ribs, as though it were trying to escape her body and join Remus’s. She wished it could; she wished they could permanently join themselves together, so that she would never have to be without him again. Her own words crept back to her, icily reminding her of what she had told him just a few hours ago… _it’s just sex, Remus._

A familiar weight settled in the pit of her stomach. It wasn’t just sex; not for her, anyway. She looked at Remus in the flickering candlelight. His eyes were closed now, face relaxed and neutral against the pillow. She loved him, she realised with a shuddering, overwhelming certainty. She was in love with him, and she didn’t know what to do with the startling, all-encompassing fervour that seemed to engulf her with this epiphany. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've got a really busy week coming up so I'm not sure if I'll have a chance to post again before next weekend, but I wanted to get this little chapter up.  
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting <3
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	12. So Desperate

November faded into December. Outside the tiny window in Tonks’ room, the last few leaves sagged and fell from the trees in the chilly winter wind. Tonks hardly had time to notice the evenings drawing in. She left for work before sunrise and returned home long after sunset. Fudge was becoming quite insane in his desperate attempts to defame Dumbledore and protect the reputation of the Ministry. Everything had to appear perfectly calm, and he was putting enormous pressure on the Auror department, leading Scrimgeour to increase overtime, call off all planned holidays, and generally make the department quite a miserable place to work. 

Almost every day Tonks was kept late, sent all over the country on jobs that would have been comically insignificant if not for the sheer number of them. One early December evening she and Proudfoot found themselves in Wales, halfway up a mountain, looking for a dragon that an elderly witch had supposedly spotted over supper. They searched for two long, arduous hours before finally admitting defeat. Shockingly, this expedition was one of the less ridiculous jobs Tonks found herself on during that week.

On top of all this, of course, the Order was still keeping twenty-four hour watch on the Department of Mysteries. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday nights found Tonks on four hour shifts in the long, cold corridor. She hated these nights. Time seemed to slow down, ticking by so begrudgingly that she was sure some kind of strange magic must be seeping out of the ominous black door, playing a cruel trick on the progress of the hours. She tried to keep herself occupied with muggle crosswords and puzzle books, but each night she ended up slumped against the cold tiled wall, wrapped in Moody’s invisibility cloak, staring at the door, her mind racing. It was always the same subject she ruminated on. Remus.

Whenever she was apart from him, which was considerably often, she missed him. They had only a few stolen hours together each week, when Tonks wasn’t working or on watch duty, and when Remus wasn’t off in shady parts of wizarding London, locating werewolf hangouts. Just as time seemed to slow outside the Department of Mysteries, the hours they were together passed by in heady blurs, so quickly that they seemed hardly real. Sometimes, they went for long, ambling walks by the Thames, occasionally venturing down onto the foreshore, but often staying on footpaths. They talked about everything and nothing during this time. Tonks learned of Remus’s isolated childhood, how he had never expected to be allowed to attend Hogwarts, and then of the fabulous adventures he, James, Sirius, and Peter had had at school. He spoke little of the time after the first war, but Tonks deduced from a few offhand comments that he had spent most of that long decade in the cottage his parents had left him, working lots of part-time jobs to get by. When she thought of him during this time, alone and isolated, away from everyone he loved, she felt overwhelmingly, heart-achingly sad. He deserved so much, and she tried to tell him this as they passed Richmond Park in the dusk, or walked over Westminster Bridge, the winter sun sinking beneath the distant buildings of old London. Whenever she did, he would smile at her, pityingly, and remain silent, his gaze distant and unfocussed. 

Often, their sparse time together was spent in bed, clinging to each other with passion that bordered on desperation. Remus was an incredibly selfless lover, Tonks learned. He was happy to spend hours pleasuring her, making her come again and again with no concern for his own needs. This was both endearing and overwhelmingly frustrating for Tonks. She knew he was still battling his conscience about their relationship; she could tell in the way his jaw tensed when Sirius made small jibes at the dinner table, and his pained expression whenever they were out and someone else looked at Tonks. Her reassurances went either unnoticed or unrecognised. She considered just telling him she was in love with him, telling him that she could think of little else but his eyes and his hands and the solid, reassuring thump of his heart against her palm, but fear stopped her. She was sure that such a declaration would do nothing but panic him, even if – as she increasingly suspected – he felt the same way. 

And so they settled into an irregular, disordered routine as December passed. For four long days between the 12th and 16th they did not see each other at all, and when they finally bumped into each other on the third-floor landing at midnight they barely made it into Remus’s room. It felt to Tonks as though she had been holding her breath all week, and only managed to gasp in air when she was in his arms again. 

On the night of the 18th Tonks was once again in the long corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. She had been awake, by her calculations, for almost twenty hours, and she was pacing up and down only to stop herself from falling asleep on the floor. Arthur was due to relieve her at midnight, so she was surprised when she saw his tall, thin figure hurrying towards her at ten to eleven. She pulled Moody’s cloak off and smiled at him.

“Wotcher, Arthur,” she said, looking at her watch and then back to his face, “you’re a bit early, aren’t you?”

“I thought I’d let you get home early, Tonks,” he said, brightly, taking the cloak from her, “you’ve been working late all week, according to Kingsley. Go home, get some sleep. I don’t mind doing an extra hour or two tonight.”

Tonks yawned, stretched widely, and said gratefully, “you’re a hero, Arthur, you really are. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

She started back up the corridor towards the lifts, giving Arthur a cheery wave over her shoulder as she went. She wanted nothing more than to sink into her warm, lumpy bed, perhaps with a nice mug of tea. This thought carried her all they way back to Grimmauld Place, where she hurried into the kitchen and set the kettle to boil. Finally, mug in hand, she galloped up the stairs, tiptoeing past Sirius’s room – Remus was out on a mission – and up to her bedroom. She didn’t even bother putting her pyjamas on, but got into bed fully dressed, kicking her boots off onto the floor and sinking back into the pillows. She managed perhaps three sips of tea, set the mug on the bedside table, and fell into a deep, much-needed sleep.

She was woken abruptly by someone shaking her.

“Tonks!”

She opened her eyes blearily, blinking hazily at the dark blur above her. As her vision came into focus, she saw that it was Sirius, and that he looked quite wild in the flickering light of a single candle. She was reminded with a horrifying jolt of his wanted posters at the Ministry; he had that same wild-eyed terror in his eyes. She sat upright quickly.

“What? What’s going on?” She said, her voice a little distorted from sleep.

Sirius was still gripping her shoulder, and his fingers were biting almost painfully into her flesh.

“It’s Arthur,” Sirius said in a rush, as Tonks threw back the duvet and stood on wobbly legs, “Arthur’s been attacked. Harry and the others are on their way.” Sirius had backed up a few paces now, and Tonks could see that he was pale in the low light.

“Attacked?!” Tonks said, her heart now racing as she shoved her feet into her boots, “What do you mean? He’s at the Ministry- what’s happened?”

Sirius shook his head, “I don’t know. He’s at St Mungo’s- it’s not good, Tonks.” He ran a shaky hand through his long hair.

Together, they went downstairs to wait for the portkey. Sirius lit the fire in the kitchen, but the orange dancing glow did little to warm Tonks. She paced up and down, tripping now and then on the uneven floor. She thought about contacting Remus, sending him a patronus, but she knew it was too risky given what he was doing. He thought that she was on duty at the Ministry tonight – hell, she was supposed to be! If Arthur hadn’t relieved her early, it could have been she who had been attacked. She nibbled her nails anxiously, fear and guilt and panic all surging through her in great overwhelming waves. Sirius sat at the table, drinking Firewhisky silently, occasionally standing to top up his glass. 

Finally, after what felt like hours, Harry, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny appeared quite suddenly in the kitchen, looking as anxious and pale as Tonks felt. Kreacher, who had been hiding in his cupboard, came out at this commotion and began muttering under his breath.

“OUT!” Sirius yelled at the house-elf, before standing and rushing over to help Ginny up off the floor.

Tonks pulled Harry to his feet and helped Ron disentangle himself from a kitchen chair, then said in what she hoped was a relatively calm voice, “What’s going on?”

“Phineas Nigellus said Arthur’s been badly injured,” Sirius prompted.

“Ask Harry,” said Fred, gesturing at Harry, who, Tonks noticed, looked _awful._

His usually messy hair was wet with sweat and stuck to his forehead in clumps. Large, dark circles lined his eyes, and he was almost green in the fire light. He had grown since she’d last seen him, and somehow this made him look even more unwell; all skin and bone beneath his threadbare pyjamas.

“Yeah, I want to hear this for myself,” George said, also turning to look at Harry.

Harry swallowed and said in a shaking voice, “It was– I had a – a kind of – vision… I was asleep, and I saw… I saw Mr Weasley being attacked. He was in a long corridor, and I– there was a snake. It attacked him–bit him– he was bleeding. And then I… I woke up.”

“Merlin’s beard.” Tonks said, leaning against the kitchen counter and watching Harry, who, under the gaze of the four Weasley children looked positively terrified.

“Is Mum here?” Fred asked Sirius, and the older man shook his head.

“She probably doesn’t even know what’s happened yet,” Tonks replied, “The important thing was to get you away before Umbridge could interfere. I expect Dumbledore’ll let Molly know now.”

“We’ve got to go to St. Mungo’s,” Ginny said, in a surprisingly calm voice. “Sirius, can you lend us cloaks or anything–?”

Sirius stood up at this, and raised his hands as though he were calming an anxious horse, “Hang on,” He said, his voice stern but soft, “you can’t go tearing off to St. Mungo’s!”

Fred squared himself up to Sirius, and Tonks saw a fire in his eyes that she had never before witnessed from the usually placid boy, “Course we can go to St. Mungo’s if we want, he’s our dad!” 

Tonks stepped between the pair and said, “Fred, how are you going to explain how you knew your dad was attacked before the hospital has even told his wife?” 

“What does that matter?” George retorted, stepping forward to stand next to his twin.

“It matters,” Tonks said, keeping her voice calm, “because we don’t want to draw attention to the fact that Harry is having visions.”

“Have you any idea what the Ministry would make of that information?” Sirius said angrily from behind her.

Fred and George’s expressions remained hard and hot. Behind them, Ron was pale and quiet, but Ginny stood up and said defiantly, “Somebody else could have told us! We could have heard it somewhere other than Harry…”

“Like who?” Sirius said, “Listen, your dad’s been hurt while on duty for the Order and the circumstances are fishy enough without his children knowing about it seconds after it happened, you could seriously damage the Order’s–”

“We don’t care about the dumb Order!” Fred interrupted loudly, his face flushing with rage.

“It’s our dad dying we’re talking about!” George yelled, and Tonks felt a hot wave of panic wash over her, thinking of Arthur, dead, when it should have been her. 

“Your father knew what he was getting into, and he won’t thank you for messing things up for the Order!” Sirius barked at the twins, “This is how it is – this is why you’re not in the Order – you don’t understand – there are things worth dying for!”

_Love,_ Tonks thought automatically, _love is worth dying for._ And she thought again of Remus, unaware of what was happening, perhaps hundreds of miles away. If he heard that someone had been attacked at the Ministry, she knew he would assume it was her. But she couldn’t do anything now. Sending him any kind of message while he was with the werewolves would be tantamount to putting a target on his back. She clenched her fists together, allowing the pain of her nails digging into her palms to bring her back to the present and the argument that was now escalating in the dark kitchen. 

“Easy for you to say, stuck here!” Fred was shouting at Sirius, “I don’t see you risking your neck!”

Tonks looked quickly at Sirius, desperately willing him not to respond, not to act rashly. For a split second, Tonks thought he was going to hit Fred, but then a kind of resolute calm came over him, and instead, he said sternly, “I know it’s hard, but we’ve all got to act as though we don’t know anything yet. We’ve got to stay put, at least until we heard from your mother, all right?”

Relieved, Tonks sank into a chair by the fire. The twins continued to glare at Sirius for a few moments, then, noticing that Ginny, Ron, and Harry had also collapsed into chairs, did likewise.

“I’ll make some tea,” Tonks said, mainly because she could think of little else to do. 

She bustled around the kitchen while the others sat in a stony, tense silence. She wished she could say something – anything – to reassure the teenagers, and herself, but could think of nothing to say. Any words of comfort would be empty. Instead, she set seven mugs of steaming tea in front of each of them and summoned a packet of biscuits from the pantry. For a long while, the only sounds were the crackling of the fire and quiet sips of tea. 

A burst of fire in midair wrenched them from their respective reveries, and they each cried out as a scroll of parchment and a single golden feather thudded onto the table, just missing Ginny’s mug of tea.

“Fawkes!” Sirius said, picking up the parchment, “That’s not Dumbledore’s writing, though – it must be from Molly – here–”

He gave the letter to George, who opened it impatiently and read aloud, “ _Dad is still alive. I am setting out for St. Mungo’s now. Stay where you are. I will send news as soon as I can. Mum.”_

They all looked at the letter in a sort of stunned silence, until George said quietly, “Still alive… But that makes it sound…”

No one else spoke. Tonks made more tea and they continued to sit silently as the night wore on. A few times, she suggested they try to get some sleep, but she knew this was a pointless suggestion. Although she had only had perhaps an hour’s sleep Tonks now felt more awake than ever, adrenaline pumping through her every time the fire crackled or the wind made it sound as though the front door might be opening. 

Ginny had curled up on a kitchen chair. Tonks summoned a blanket and tucked it around her gently. Across the table, Fred’s head was lolling against his chest, but she could see that his eyes were open. Harry and Sirius both looked awkward and uncomfortable, and Ron had his head in his hands. Tonks sat quite upright, occassionally pouring more tea or poking the fire with her wand, waiting… waiting….

Then, quite suddenly, just as Tonks had drifted into a kind of waking-slumber, the kitchen door banged open and Molly came in, looking pale and windswept. All seven of them stood as one, and she gave a tiny, weak smile.

“He’s going to be all right,” She said, “He’s sleeping. We can all go and see him later. Bill’s sitting with him now, he’s going to take the morning off work.”

Tonks felt relief sweep over her, and watched as the four Weasley children each embraced their mother. Ginny was crying silently, tears running freely down her cheeks. 

Tonks looked at Sirius and said quietly, “Breakfast?”

He nodded in response, and together they began pulling pots and pans from shelves as Molly embraced Harry behind them and thanked him. Then she approached Tonks and Sirius, pulled Tonks into a hug and said over her shoulder, “Thank you both for looking after them tonight. I’m so grateful.”

“You can all stay here as long as you need to,” Sirius said, as Molly released Tonks and pressed a kiss to Sirius’s cheek.

“Oh Sirius, thank you… They think he’ll be there a little while and it would be wonderful to be nearer… Of course, that might mean we’re here for Christmas…”

“The more the merrier!” Said Sirius, and Tonks couldn’t help but grin at the joy that passed across him wan face. 

Molly took an apron off the hook by the sink and she and Tonks began cooking. Sirius disappeared with Harry into the pantry. Tonks watched them go as she cracked eggs into a bowl. She was certain that Harry was concealing something about the vision he had had, and she hoped that he would at least be able to confide in Sirius. 

Later, when they had all eaten, Molly sent Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George to bed. It was now half past six, and Tonks was sure that Remus would be returning soon. She bade Molly and Sirius goodnight and they both went up to get some sleep too. Tonks still felt wide awake, so she waited for Remus in the kitchen. She knew he had arrived home when she heard the soft _click_ of the front door and the unmistakable sound of his hurried footsteps in the hallway above. She met him at the kitchen door, but before she could say anything, he had thrown his arms around her, and pulled him to her in a crushing embrace.

“I heard– Arthur – I thought it was you, Dora – Gods, I–” He pulled back and kissed her fiercely, tangling a hand in her long hair, his mouth cold from the icy December air outside.

“It should have been me, Remus. Arthur let me go early. It should have–”

But before she could finish the sentence, Remus was pressing her into the kitchen counter, hands holding her face, kissing her with unbridled ferocity. His tongue swept over her lips and she opened them, allowing him to deepen the kiss, clutching the back of his cold robes in her fists. 

He pulled away again, but kept his forehead pressed to hers, and said in a shaking voice, “Kingsley came and found me, told me what had happened, but he didn’t say who had been hurt at first, and I thought- _Gods_ , Dora, I thought it was you.” Then he was kissing her once more, teeth grazing her lips, surely leaving marks, but she didn’t care. She didn’t even care that they were in the middle of the kitchen, or that any of the Weasleys or Harry or Sirius could walk in at any minute, and it seemed Remus didn’t either, because he lifted her bodily and set her on the kitchen counter, fingers greedily groping her breasts, still pressing hot, needy kisses to her lips. 

“Remus,” Tonks said breathlessly, when he trailed an elegant hand up her thigh and began pushing her skirt up, “the door-”

He stopped briefly, pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it flippantly at the door. The lock clicked and his wand fell to the floor as he immediately resumed his ministrations. Within moments he had pushed her knickers to the side and pressed two fingers inside her, sucking and biting at her neck and making all manner of filthy noises in her ear. She heard him struggling to unbuckle his belt one-handed, his fingers still curling inside her and she helped him, unzipping his flies and pulling his cock out. He was hot and hard in her hand, and he hissed against her lips when she gave him a few firm strokes. Seconds later she felt him withdraw his fingers, and then he was pressing inside her, stretching her deliciously. 

He was anything but gentle, seeming – for once – to not care about taking things slowly or selflessly caressing her. He slammed into her with desperation, one hand clutching her hip painfully, the other tangled in her hair. Where he would usually whisper praise and small words of encouragement to her as they made love, she could hear only his panting breath and the hard _slap_ of skin against skin. Tonks clung to him as he fucked her, burying her head into his robes, breathing in the tantalising scent of earl grey and rain and _Remus._

Her orgasm built slowly, washing over her like the waves on the foreshore of the Thames, and as she felt herself clenching around him she said in a voice tight with pleasure and emotion, “I love you.” She repeated it over and over until he was coming inside her, his head pressed against her neck, fingers clawing at her skin, breath ragged and hot on her skin. 

They stayed entwined against the kitchen counter for several moments, Tonks’ heart thumping with ecstasy and anxiety, Remus’s head still buried in her neck. She felt him shift against her, the ghost of his lips brushing a kiss against the bare skin of her shoulder, and then he said, so quietly she could hardly hear him over the din of her blood thundering in her ears, “I love you.”

Behind them, through the frosted kitchen window, the sun was rising, and as it passed the thick line of trees at the bottom of the garden it bathed the room in a soft pink light. Tonks grinned against Remus’s robed shoulder, joy cascading through her, the adrenaline of the long night finally abating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this chapter took a while, but I hope it was worth the wait.  
> I'm not sure how many more chapters this story will run to. I do want to continue through OoTP, if that's something people would be interested in.  
> Thanks for reading!


	13. Werewolf Gimmick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title of this chapter is from a song of the same name by The Mountain Goats.

They visited Arthur later that same day. Tonks managed to get a few hours of fairly decent sleep, curled up against Remus in her box room. Far from being distant after their heated and passionate declarations in the kitchen, he was mellow and tender towards her. He wrapped his arms protectively around her as they slept, and when she woke it was to the gentle sound of his deep, steady breathing. 

Tonks left Remus sleeping – he was due out on another mission later that afternoon – and escorted the Weasleys and Harry to St Mungo’s. She had not been to the hospital for over a year. The last time had been when she’d accompanied Proudfoot following a raid that had gone wrong. The time before that she had still been a child. She hazily remembered visiting her father aged about four or five, when he’d contracted Dragon Pox. Inside, the hospital smelt minty, a little like the pep-up potions she had been taking recently to keep on top of Ministry and Order work. 

On the ward, Tonks and Mad-Eye allowed the Weasleys and Harry to visit Arthur first. They waited out in the corridor in companionable silence, Mad-Eye’s magical eye whizzing around so violently that it made Tonks feel a little queasy. 

“Give it a rest, Mad-Eye, you’re making me feel ill,” Tonks said, looking at the floor as Mad-Eye’s eye did an extremely dramatic loop-the-loop in its socket and spun round to the back of his head.

Mad-Eye gave Tonks a furious look and said, sternly, “We can’t be too careful, Nymphadora. There’s something fishy about this whole thing. Constant-”

“Vigilance,” Tonks finished, grinning at him, “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

She was going to say more, but before she could, Harry, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny appeared and said Arthur wanted to see them. Tonks held the door for Mad-Eye and followed him into the ward. It was a dark and dismal room. Arthur was at the far end under the only window, sat up and beaming.

“Wotcher, Arthur,” Tonks said cheerily, sinking into one of the seats at the bedside.

Next to her, Mad-Eye crammed himself into a seat, and Molly perched at the end of Arthur’s bed. Arthur seemed quite well, though he was pale and Tonks could see dark circles under both eyes. 

“How’re you feeling?” She asked.

“Fine, absolutely fine. I could come home, if they could get the bleeding to stop, but every time they take the bandages off, the wounds open up again. They’ve never seen anything like it.”

“That’s because they’ve never seen anything like that snake,” Mad-Eye said in a low rasping whisper. “How big was it, Arthur?”

“I’ve no idea, really. Huge, judging by the bites-” at this, Molly gave a little moan “-but it all happened so fast I barely had time to react.”

“It had disappeared, by the time we got to you,” Mad-Eye told him, lowering his voice further still so that Tonks had to lean towards him to hear what he was saying.

She looked around the ward to check no one would be likely to overhear them. There were just two others occupying the room; a pale, sickly looking man who was staring unseeingly up at the ceiling, and a little old lady who seemed to be asleep. She turned back to Arthur.

“They searched the whole area but they couldn’t find the snake anywhere. It just seems to have vanished after it attacked you, Arthur.” She said, adding, “You-know-who can’t have expected a snake to get in there, can he?”

“I reckon he sent it as a lookout,” Mad-Eye answered, both eyes now fixed on Tonks. “‘cause he’s not had any luck yet, has he? No, I reckon he’s trying to get a clearer picture of what he’s facing and if Arthur hadn’t been there the beast would’ve had more time to look around.” He turned to Molly, and said, “So, Potter says he saw it all happen?”

Tonks stomach gave a strange sort of lurch as she listened to these words and watched Molly worry at her lips with her teeth. Since appearing in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place that morning Harry had been distant and troubled. She had wondered briefly if perhaps he had powers of Sight, but, as he himself had pointed out, he’d seen Arthur being attacked in real time, not in advance of the event. 

Beside her, Molly sighed and said a little uneasily, “You know, Dumbledore seems to have been almost waiting for Harry to see something like this….”

“Yeah, well, there’s something a little bit odd about Harry, we all know that.” Mad-Eye said.

“Dumbledore seemed worried about him when I spoke to him this morning.” Molly said, straightening Arthur’s blanket absentmindedly.

“Course he’s worried! He’s seeing things from inside You-Know-Who’s snake… Obviously, Harry doesn’t realise what that means, but if You-Know-Who is possessing him, it gives him a direct link to Dumbledore- to the heart of the Order!”

Tonks’ stomach gave another horrible lurch. The calmness that had come from hearing of Arthur’s miraculous escape and survival was swiftly being replaced with a fresh wave of anxiety. Tonks felt her heart rate increase a little, and took a few steadying breaths. She was usually so calm and level-headed, but she was realising that being in the Order was quite unlike working for the Ministry as an Auror. She liked her Auror colleagues. She would perhaps even call a couple of them friends, but it was nothing to how she felt about Arthur, or Harry, or Sirius, Ginny, Hermione, Molly, _Remus,_ and countless others _._ In the six months since she’d stumbled into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, she had grown to love her fellow Order members as a strange, mismatched, and unconventional family. With this thought she realised she hadn’t written to her parents for over a week; their last letter was still on her desk, half-read. She chided herself and made a mental note to reply as soon as she got back. 

“We’d better be getting back, Arthur,” Mad-Eye said, and Tonks snapped out of her revery.

“Thanks for coming. Hopefully I’ll be out soon.” Arthur replied pleasantly, shaking Mad-Eye’s hand. 

Tonks gave him a gentle hug, cautious of his bandages, and followed Mad-Eye back into the corridor, where the teenagers were waiting. Tonks watched Harry as they made their winding way back out onto the street. He kept a little away from the others, his eyes on the floor, hands sunk into his jeans’ pockets. She caught his eye briefly, and tried to give him a reassuring smile, but he glanced away quickly, a look of something close to guilt written across his thin face. 

Back at Grimmauld Place, Tonks wrote a brief reply to her parents, confirming that she would be staying with them for Christmas the following week. She thought idly of declining their invitation, and staying with Remus, Sirius, the Weasleys, and Harry, but decided it was not worth the drama. Like Sirius, Andromeda Tonks could hold a grudge and was unafraid to let you know she was upset. It might be nice to get away from the dreary house for a few days, anyway, Tonks thought, and she knew that Molly had planned a New Years' Eve party that she would be back in time for. 

Arthur remained in hospital for the rest of the week. Each time the Healers attempted to remove his bandages, or uncover the deep lacerations made by the snake, they began bleeding profusely. Tonks accompanied the Weasleys to visit their father several times over the next few days. On the 22nd, Remus came too. She noticed him watching the pale, staring man in the bed opposite Arthur, and was shocked when Molly whispered conspiratorially, “He was bitten last week, poor chap. Werewolf.”

Tonks watched Remus amble casually over to the man and draw up a chair next to him. They spoke for a long time while she, Harry, and the Weasleys sat with Arthur. Tonks couldn’t hear what they were saying, but she glanced up every now and then just to watch the gentle, comforting grace with which Remus moved his hands as he spoke to the man, and the kind, sad smile in his eyes. She thought she might burst with the sudden, overwhelming surge of love she felt for him. 

They took the tube home, and the swarming masses of rush-hour muggles meant that they all ended up squashed together in one compartment. She took the opportunity to slip her hand into Remus’s, the pressing mass of bodies hiding their entwined fingers from the five Weasleys and Harry. He looked at her and smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. When the train lurched to a stop he pulled his hand away quickly, and strode off ahead with Fred and George, followed by Molly, Ron, and Harry, leaving Tonks to walk with Ginny. 

“Looking forward to Christmas?” Tonks asked conversationally as they stepped onto the escalator together.

“I suppose,” Ginny said. “It’s nice to all be together, isn’t it? Even if dad’s still in hospital. And Sirius is so excited.”

Tonks laughed at this, and threaded her arm through Ginny’s as the escalator juddered up towards the open night’s sky. 

“Did you see him putting the fairy on the tree yesterday?” Tonks asked, and Ginny giggled in response.

“He spent about an hour getting it to sit _just_ right. I don’t know if it was adorable or chronically tragic.”

“Oh, definitely adorable. He’s strangely adorable, that man. Still handsome, too, even after Azkaban.” Tonks smiled as she said this, thinking fondly of her cousin’s easy smile and quick wit. She noticed that Ginny was looking at her strangely, and, stepping cautiously off the end of the escalator, she turned to her and said, “what?”

“You and Sirius… you’re not…?” Ginny asked, a grin spreading conspiratorialy across her face.

“Gods, no! He’s my cousin, Ginny. Well, second cousin or once removed or something, but still. He’s family.”

“We all are, really, aren’t we.” Ginny said, and it wasn’t a question. Tonks noticed that she was looking at Harry, who was several paces ahead with Ron, as she said this.

“Yeah, we are.” She replied, giving Ginny’s arm a little squeeze, and peering through the darkness to watch Remus’s tall frame between Fred and George some fifty yards up the street.

Remus went to bed early that night. Tonks stayed downstairs to help Molly clean up and do the dishes, then she made her way up to his room. The door was shut, but she could see the flickering glow of candlelight under the door. She knocked, and heard him say, “Come in.”

He was at his desk, writing a letter on a long piece of parchment. As she stepped inside and shut the door he looked up and smiled. It was a little more genuine than the one he had given her on the train, but he still looked world-weary and the premature lines on his forehead seemed deeper than usual.

She slipped silently behind him and placed her hands on his shoulders. She began to massage them gently, trying to relieve some of the tension that seemed to emanate from him. Even with him sat in front of her, the top of his head reached her chest, and she didn’t have to bend very far to press a small kiss on the side of his cheek. 

“You okay?” She asked, stroking a hair through his hair. “You’ve been a bit quiet all day.”

He put the quill down and turned so that he was looking up at her, “I’m sorry, I’m fine, really.”

She thought he had meant it to sound reassuring, but his voice was tight with emotion and uncharacteristically rough.

“Talk to me,” She said, moving away to sit on the edge of his bed, “I can tell something’s wrong, Remus.”

He let out a long sigh and stood, stretching as he stepped towards her and the bed. She watched his untucked shirt rise up, took in the long, white scar that covered his left hip and abdomen. He really was indescribably beautiful, she thought. He sat next to her on the bed and she leaned into him, enjoying the warmth coming off of him, and the unmistakable scent of Earl Grey. 

“Is it about the man in Arthur’s room?” She asked, tentatively, knowing she was right before she even finished the sentence, “The werewolf?”

“His wife’s left him,” Remus said quietly after a few moments, “the day after he was bitten. Took off her wedding ring and sent an owl to the ward.”

“That’s…” Tonks struggled to find the words, “that’s awful. No, it’s… it’s disgusting. It’s _abhorrent._ ”

Remus moved away a little then, and looked at her. His face was unreadable, but she thought he seemed confused.

“It’s what usually happens,” He said, eyes raking over her face as though she were a puzzle he hoped to solve. “They won’t even have to divorce. The Ministry will annul the marriage, it’ll be as though it never happened.”

“But that’s fucking horrendous. How could she do that? How could anyone ever do that?”

Tonks’ voice was getting louder, but she didn’t care. Fury was rising in her like bile; white hot tendrils of anger, sending goosebumps across her skin. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that her hair, which had been pink a few minutes before, had turned a livid red colour. Remus didn’t respond to her question, but instead kept studying her. Unable to sit still, she stood and began to pace the room.

“They were _married,_ for fuck’s sake!” She hissed furiously, running a hand through her hair, which had now begun to darken further, rapidly heading from red to ink black. 

“He’s a werewolf, Tonks,” Remus said, quietly. He had stopped watching her and now seemed to be inspecting the wall just behind her head. “Once a month, he’s going to turn into a monster; a savage, bloodthirsty beast with no morals, no human feeling, no idea of love or _marriage_ or happiness.”

“So?!” Tonks was almost shouting now, and she knew that they had crossed some kind of invisible line and were no longer talking about the man in Arthur’s room. “She loves him! She shouldn’t care about that- about any of that. She should love all of him, everything about him!”

“He’s a monster, Tonks. You can’t force someone to love someone like that- to love a monster.”

Tonks stopped pacing and rounded on him. She was shaking now, the white hot fire inside her burning like a furnace. She could feel that her cheeks were scarlet; that her hair was again changing from black to white, but she was sure that even if she tried at that moment she would be unable to consciously change any part of her appearance.

“You’re not a monster.” She replied, surprised at how quiet and stern her voice was. “You’re not a fucking monster, Remus.”

As quickly as it had ignited, the fury inside her died. Remus said nothing and continued to watch the spot a little above Tonks’ head, his face set and pale in the candlelight. 

“Look at me,” she said, gently, and his eyes slid from the wall to her face. 

She stepped towards him, moving his knees with hers so that she stood between his legs. She remembered how she had stood in the very same position that first night almost two months ago; how he had undressed her then as though he was afraid he might break her.

She tipped his head up with one finger and bent down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. 

“I love you.” She said, and the words seemed to unlock something inside him, because suddenly he was kissing her back, pulling her to him.

They made love slowly in the flickering candlelight. Tonks traced every scar on Remus’s body with her lips, trying to memorise them all, trying to imbibe them with the unwavering certainty of her love, as though this alone could heal his doubt and diffidence. He watched her with lust-blown eyes as she did this, laughing a little when she traced a thin white one which crept up along his left side to his underarm. 

Afterwards, they lay together in the near-darkness and spoke quietly of everything and nothing until Tonks fell asleep, one arm thrown across Remus’s chest, her legs tangled with his. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been another week since an update, I've been so, so busy but I am still really excited about sharing more of this story. Will try and get another chapter up over the next few days.
> 
> Thanks to everyone who has read and commented so far, I am so so grateful.


	14. Riches and Wonder

“Nymphadora, if you don’t get out of that bed soon I’ll hex you out of it!” Andromeda Tonks’ voice was sharp and sudden in Tonks’ ear, and she sat upright, almost cracking her head on the low, sloping ceiling of her childhood bedroom. 

It was Christmas Eve morning, and Tonks had spent the last fourteen hours in a deep, dreamless sleep in a bed that still had Hufflepuff covers and a large population of teddy bears. It was light in the room, and she looked over to see her mother stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, her face set in determined severity. This image of ferocity was ruined slightly by the fact that she was levitating a tea tray in front of her, which was laden with several slices of toast, three types of jam and a steaming pot of coffee. Andromeda gave her wand a little flick and the tray soared over, coming to rest on Tonks’ lap. 

“How are you feeling?” Andromeda said, her voice far gentler, as she sat at the end of Tonks’ bed and began pouring coffee into a mug.

“Better, thanks,” Tonks replied, “I don’t think I realised how tired I was until I got here. Everything’s just so busy at the Ministry at the moment, I’ve hardly had a moment’s peace for months.”

She hadn’t told her parents about the Order. She wanted to tell them, and she hated having the crushing weight of the deceit on her chest, but it was safer for them if they didn’t know. Their letters had been redirected to her office at the Ministry; it was risky to have too many owls flying in and out of Grimmauld Place, and she’d stopped paying the rent on her flat weeks ago. She sipped her coffee as her mother studied her face. 

Andromeda and Sirius shared exactly the same eye colour, Tonks mused, taking a bite of toast. Dark brown, a tiny slither of hazel at the very edge. It had been one of the first things she’d noticed about Sirius, after their initial flustered meeting. For years, Tonks had desperately wished for more family; her mother never spoke of the Blacks, and her father had been the only child of older parents. Sat in her childhood bedroom, now, she thought warmly of the large, extended family waiting for her back at Grimmauld Place, and then felt a little flicker of guilt. She hadn’t seen her mother or father for weeks, and she knew how excited they were to spend Christmas with her.

Scolding herself, she gave Andromeda a warm smile, and said, happily, “thanks for the toast, mum. And for letting me sleep in. I’ve missed you both.”

“And we’ve missed you,” Andromeda said fondly, then, looking at the pile of crumpled clothes Tonks had dumped on the floor the previous evening, added, “though, I’ll admit I haven’t missed your mess.”

Christmas Eve passed in a bleary haze of boardgames and over-eating. Tonks tried to teach her father how to play a complicated card game Kingsley had taught her, called Hag’s Hop, but Ted seemed entirely unable to understand the rules and insisted they bring out an old battered edition of muggle Monopoly. Andromeda joined in, and they played late into the evening, the cosy living room filled with Ted’s indignant laughter, Andromeda’s whoops of joy when she bankrupted him, and Tonks’ tales of Auror duty.

“We’re very proud of you, you know,” Ted told her when the game had finally ended and Andromeda had gone into the kitchen to make them all a mug of cocoa before bed.

“For winning Monopoly?” Tonks asked, grinning sarcastically. 

“Not that, you cheater,” Her father chuckled, “No, no, for the work you do. For what a brave, clever woman you’ve become. I know your mother isn’t good at showing affection, or saying how she feels, but she really is proud of you.”

Tonks smiled, a little bashful, and focussed on getting the lid on the crumpled Monopoly box. 

“Thanks, dad.” She said after a moment, squeezing his arm affectionately and standing to sit back on the sofa. 

She watched her father push himself up off the floor too. He had grown old somewhen, she realised. He was no longer the broad, spritely man of her childhood, who had casually flung her onto his shoulders and carried her up to bed when she fell asleep on the sofa. His hair, once blond, was now flecked with white, and receding up his increasingly lined forehead. He still had the same kind, warm smile, but his jawline had softened with age. She watched her mother as she brought three steaming mugs into the room. Andromeda had aged, too, but in a far less noticeable way. She stood as straight as she always had, and her hair was still a warm chestnut brown, sleek and soft, down to her waist. If there were a few more lines on her face than there had been when she was young, they only served to make her more beautiful, more regal. 

“So, when are you staying ’til?” Ted asked now, stretching his legs out towards the fire.

“I’ve only got today and tomorrow off, so I’ll have to leave early on the 26th,” Tonks said apologetically, stifling a yawn with her hand. 

Andromeda put their hot drinks on the coffee table and sank elegantly into the armchair opposite her husband. Tonks watched the easy grace with which her mother moved, and thought of her own bumbling clumsiness. She suppressed a grin and reached for her cocoa.

Climbing into bed later that night, warm and full, Tonks couldn’t help but remember the Christmas Eves of her childhood. Her small bedroom had always seemed particularly magical on Christmas Eve. She thought of the bubble of excitement that always marked the early morning of December 25th, and the utter joy of seeing a small pile of presents at the end of her bed. They’d alway had fairly low-key Christmases. With no other family members to invite over or visit, the Tonkses usually stayed at home, played games together and listened to old Christmas music, or went for a long, chilly walk around the farms that surrounded their bungalow.

As she settled into her single bed beneath the low ceiling of the loft, she thought of Remus, and wondered what he was doing at that moment. Probably in the drawing room, drinking fire whiskey with Sirius, if Sirius had his way. Or perhaps he was already in bed, asleep, thinking of her. She rolled over and pulled the duvet up close to her ears, smiling as she thought of him. 

Tonks woke early on Christmas Day. She didn’t immediately notice what had woken her up. She groped lazily around for her wand, glancing up at the skylight in the roof to see if it was morning yet. Her view was obstructed by a large, white ball of fluff perched on the glass. As she watched, it bent its head down and tapped the window again, giving a little hoot of impatience. Tonks pushed herself out of bed and opened the skylight; the owl slid down the glass and landed unceremoniously on the bedside table. It ruffled its feathers indignantly, hooted again and held out a leg. There was a tiny parcel tied to it, wrapped in brown paper. Tonks untied the parcel from the owl, said, “thanks, pal,” and opened the skylight so that it could leave again. 

The parcel did have a note attached to it, and Tonks had no idea who it could be from. She’d exchanged gifts with her friends from school the previous week, after work, and she was planning on giving Remus, Sirius, Molly, Arthur and the children theirs when she returned to Grimmauld Place on Boxing Day. Perplexed, she unwrapped the tiny present carefully. Something shiny and sleek fell to the floor from between her fingers, and she knelt to pick it up. It was a tiny, delicate locket on a long silver chain, quite plain, but beautiful, with exquisitely carved petals on the front. It looked old, really old, but it was bright and so well polished that she could see her face reflected in the silver. Holding it carefully in her palm, she looked back at the parcel it had fallen from, and saw that there was a thin scroll of parchment still inside. Tonks pulled it out and read it, a smile spreading across her face.

_Dear Dora,  
_ _I hope you didn’t mind my sending this to you now, but I wanted you to have it on Christmas Day. I found it several weeks ago, on one of our walks by the Foreshore, buried in the sand. I know you don’t often wear jewellery, but when I saw the inscription inside I knew it was meant to be yours. I’m sorry that it is a rather cheap gift. I hope you can forgive a poor old man.  
_ _Yours,  
_ _RJL_

She let the parchment roll back into a cylinder and turned her attention again to the locket. There was a tiny clasp on the right side, and, more carefully than she had ever done anything in her life, she eased the locket open. Inside, one half of the silver had also been inscribed with tiny petals, and the other half bore the words: 

_To Dora,  
_ _Love always,  
_ _R_

_25/12/1895_

Tonks felt tears prickle almost painfully in the corners of her eyes, and she brushed them away quickly. She had never received anything like this. She read the words several times over, thinking of the long passage of time that had slipped by since the locket had passed from a distant R to a long-ago Dora. And then for Remus to have found it on the muddy bank of the Thames, half-buried, long lost and forgotten. 

With shaking hands, she undid the clasp on the long chain and put it on. True, she rarely wore jewellery, and if she did it was often rings or chokers with black stones and fake heavy-set gems, but the cool metal of the locket felt perfect and _right_ against her chest, where it rested just over her heart. She wanted to disapparate right away and go straight to Grimmauld Place to find Remus and thank him, but she could already hear her mother downstairs, clattering about in the kitchen preparing Christmas Dinner. Beaming, she tucked the locket out of sight beneath her night shirt and pushed her feet into her slippers, then made her ambling way down to the kitchen to help Andromeda. She would see Remus tomorrow, and thank him properly then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way that Remus found the locket - by searching along the foreshore of the Thames - is called Mudlarking, and is practiced by many people in the UK and around the world. Mostly people find old clay pipes and coins, but sometimes jewellery like this is found. There's a book called Mudlarking: Lost and Found on the River Thames by Lara Maiklem, which is a really interesting read if you wanted to hear more about the practice and the treasures found.
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading.
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	15. Dance Music

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter has been AWOL for a while. It's a fairly long one, so I hope you enjoy.

Tonks returned to Grimmauld Place early on Boxing Day. She had enjoyed the time spent at her parents’, but the quiet, peaceful atmosphere of their bungalow had felt odd after so many weeks at number 12. Even when it was just her, Sirius, and Remus, the house always felt full and lively. She was looking forward to the sounds of the kids in the house; and even missed the constant chaos that came with living with Fred and George. 

She hurried up the steps to the front door, tapped it once with her wand, and stepped inside. The hallway was dark and silent, and she crept along it. It seemed that everyone was still asleep. She wasn’t surprised - it was before seven, but she had hoped to see Remus before she left for work at eight. Reaching the steps down into the kitchen, she noticed that someone - probably Sirius - had hung mistletoe in the doorway and along the sloped ceiling. 

She pushed the kitchen door open, missed the last step, and fell in a heap to the flagstone floor, knocking her head on the corner of the dining table as she went. 

Pain burst through her, nauseating and breathtaking. For a few brief seconds she saw stars, before her vision cleared and Remus’s face swam into view, then Sirius’s, over his shoulder, both looking concerned in the pale light. 

“Merlin’s beard, Tonks,” Sirius said, as Remus knelt beside her and helped her into a sitting position, “talk about making an entrance! You okay?”

“No,” Tonks said, and she reached a tentative hand up to her head, where she could already feel a lump swelling, “I think I’ve broken my head.”

Sirius let out a bark of laughter, and Remus shot him an admonishing look. 

“That was a nasty bump,” He said, softly, then turned to Sirius and said sternly, “Sirius, go and get the essence of dittany; it’s in my bedside table. Come on, Dora, let’s get you up,”

Gingerly, Tonks stood, her ankle jarring uncomfortably, and she gripped Remus’s arm, and let him lower her carefully into one of the chairs around the table. She felt dizzy and lightheaded, and the pain in her forehead was radiating down her face and across the back of her head. Remus was kneeling on the floor in front of her, watching her with wide, anxious eyes. She tried to smile at him, but it turned into more of a wince.

“I think I’ve twisted my ankle,” She said, leaning forwards to pull off her boot. As she did so, the locket Remus had given her for Christmas slipped up out of her shirt and came to hang between them, swinging from her neck. 

“You’re wearing it!” Remus said, unable to hide the joy in his voice.

Tonks watched the silver pendant glint in the soft morning light, and smiled, “Of course I am, Remus. I love it.” She closed the gap between them and kissed him, “thank you.”

“Fucking hell, you two,” Sirius had reappeared, holding a small bottle of dittany, “I can’t leave you alone for five minutes.”

Remus applied the dittany to the lump on Tonks’ head. It felt better almost immediately; the dittany was warm and pleasantly soothing. He turned his attention to her ankle, which had now ballooned and felt uncomfortably tight. 

“Is it broken?” Tonks asked, wincing as Remus gently moved it from side to side.

“Just sprained, I think,” He replied, pulling out his wand, “ _Episkey_.”

Tonks’ ankle and foot felt suddenly very hot, then very cold. The swelling went as quickly as it had appeared, and she placed her foot onto the floor and wiggled her toes. The pain was gone. 

“I’ve got to be at work in half an hour,” she said, circling her ankle and pushing herself to her feet.

“Bunk off,” Sirius said, giving her a characteristically mischievous grin.

Tonks rolled her eyes at him and bent to pick up her rucksack, which had skidded across the kitchen floor when she’d fallen. 

“I’m sure Scrimgeour would love that,” she said, shouldering the rucksack, “not to mention the fact that half of my colleagues will be here tonight for the Order meeting. What time is that, by the way?”

“Seven-thirty, although Dumbledore’s given everyone a schedule for arrival times between seven and eight,” Remus replied, “Arthur is coming home tonight, too, if all goes to plan.”

“Brilliant!” Tonks said, “They’ve managed to stop the bleeding, then?”

“Apparently so. Kingsley’s going to go and get him at five o’clock.”

“Molly’s making dinner for six,” Sirius added happily, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

“Gods, I hope I don’t have to stay late tonight,” Tonks said, thinking fondly of mince pies and Molly’s homemade stew.

Work was surprisingly quiet. Last year, Tonks had spent Boxing Day dealing with several groups of drunk wizards and witches who had taken the name of the day a little too seriously, but the worst she came across this year was a confused elderly wizard who had accidentally given his muggle postman a pack of exploding snap cards in the late afternoon. She dealt with the problem quickly, and arrived back at the Ministry by four o’clock. On her way back to her office she turned a corner and barrelled headlong into Lucius Malfoy, who was coming out of Finneas Finch’s office, his face set in rigid determination. Tonks stumbled backwards upon colliding with him, but Malfoy did nothing to help, merely watching as she struggled to regain her balance.

“Merlin’s beard,” he said coldly when she’d straightened up, “the Auror office really is going downhill, isn’t it. Such a shame.” He looked her up and down, curled his lip in obviously displeasure, and swept away down the corridor.

Tonks watched him over her shoulder, then looked back at the office he had just departed. What did Malfoy want with Finch? Finneas Finch was the head of the Azakaban Enforcement Office. Tonks had never had very much to do with him, though her brief impression of him was that he was a rather quiet, scatty man who had come to the position more through luck than any particular talent. He was related to Fudge, she knew, and doubtlessly nepotism had something to do with his success in the ministry. Shaking her head in bewilderment and deciding to mention it to Remus and Arthur later, she continue along the corridor to her own office, resigned to another couple of hours of paperwork.

When Tonks arrived home at five past five that evening, number 12 had been transformed in preparation for Arthur’s arrival home. The dark hallway was covered in tinsel, bells, holly and mistletoe; it hung from the ceiling, twisted around the bannister and looped between the wall sconces. Even the subjects within the dark paintings on the wall were wearing Christmas hats, although none of them looked too happy about the situation. Down in the kitchen, Molly was at the stove, her hair wildly untidy, sweat shining on her round face as she frantically stirred a pan of what smelt like melted chocolate. There was a large, flashing banner by the window, which read ‘Welcome Home Arthur!’ in bright yellow print.

“Evening, Molly,” Tonks said brightly, “do you need any help with anything?”

Molly turned to Tonks in mild alarm and said gently, “Er, no, thank you, Tonks, dear. Sirius and the children are in the drawing room, though, they might appreciate a hand.”

Tonks left the kitchen and climbed the short flight of stairs to the drawing room, which was just as decked out as the hallway. The towering Christmas tree that Remus had brought home last week had been decorated to the extreme, and Tonks watched as Ginny and Hermione added a few final sprigs of holly to the lower branches. Sirius and Harry were sat on one of the low, long sofas, deep in conversation. Tonks noticed that Harry looked more relaxed and content than she had seen him look since he’d arrived at Grimmauld Place, and Sirius had trimmed his beard and was wearing his best suit. 

There was suddenly a room-shaking _crash_ and great plumes of black smoke began emanating from the corner where Fred and George had been standing. The twins emerged from it, coughing loudly, and sent white sparks from their wands at the smouldering corner, which quickly cleared of smoke. 

“One of these days,” Sirius said, seriously, turning to give them looks of equal bemusement and concern, “you two are going to burn this house down, and I won’t know whether to thank you or bloody murder you.”

Tonks laughing with the others at this, settling herself on the edge of the sofa opposite Sirius and Harry.

“Need any help?” She asked Ginny and Hermione, as they struggled to reach the top of the tree to place the fairy on the top. 

“Please, Tonks,” Hermione replied, and Tonks stood, holding out her hand and taking the ornament from Ginny.

Upon closer inspection, Tonks realised that it was, in fact, a stunned and extremely ugly garden gnome, which had been painted gold and put in a white tutu. She raised her eyebrows at Ginny and Hermione, and the pair giggled.

“It was Fred and George’s idea,” Ginny said, her mouth wide in a cheerful grin. “Dad loves them, and they reckoned it’d be funny for when he gets home.”

Tonks couldn’t help but grin back at the pair as she levitated the gnome to the top of the Christmas tree. 

“When will he be home?” She asked, stepping back to admire the tree.

“Kingsley’s gone to get him, he’ll be back any minute.” Ginny answered happily.

When Arthur arrived home twenty minutes later, Tonks said a quick hello and then left the drawing room with Sirius and Kingsley to give the Weasleys some privacy. Sirius and Kingsley disappeared down into the kitchen, but Tonks made her way upstairs. She was fairly sure that Remus would be in his room, but when she reached the second floor she noticed that the library door was open. Peering inside, she saw him, sat in an armchair by the fire, one leg propped up on the opposite knee, his head lolling on his chest as he slept. She decided then to go and get his Christmas presents and bring them down. She wanted to give him them in private, and she was unsure when she would next have a chance.

When she returned to the library from her bedroom carrying them, he was still asleep, but as she closed the door behind her and stepped towards him he gave a tiny start and opened his eyes blearily. 

“Dora,” He said, smiling warmly and stretching, “what time is it?”

“It’s only just six o’clock. Arthur’s just got back from St Mungo’s, so I thought I’d come and find you.”

She placed the handful of packages on the floor and settled into the other armchair, kicking her feet out to warm them in the hot glow from the grate.

“I’ve brought your presents down,” she said, smiling as she watched Remus’s eye slide over the large pile on the floor.

“You shouldn’t have-”

“Don’t you dare try that, you giant, loveable imp,” She grinned, as he continued to splutter, “Of course I’ve bought you presents, and I won’t hear a word more on the subject. C’mon, open them!”

Remus stopped protesting and gave her a strange look, a mixture of resignation, adoration, and something close to wonder. He took the first parcel she gave him, and placed it in his lap as he pulled at the scruffily-tied ribbon.

“I’m sorry about the wrapping,” she said, “I’m awful at it. My mum’s got this great thing she does with spellotape, but I’ve never got the knack.”

“They’re beautifully wrapped,” Remus said, and Tonks couldn’t help but laugh as he was forced to cut through the ribbon with his wand. 

She probably had gone a little overboard on his gifts, despite promising herself she wouldn’t. The last thing she had wanted to do was make Remus feel guilty, or embarrassed, but once she’d got to Diagon Alley to buy him a shirt and two new books she’d been unable to stop herself from also getting him new socks, a long, navy travelling cloak, and a pocket sneakoscope. Remus unwrapped each gift with his usual delicate care, uttering words of disbelief and wonder throughout. Contrary to Tonks’ fears, he didn’t seem embarrassed or overwhelmed, just awe-struck. When he got to the bottom of the pile he looked up at her and grinned widely.

“I don’t know what to say, Dora,” He said, as she pushed herself out of her chair and moved towards him, settling herself in his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “You didn’t have to get me anything at all, you know. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Tonks replied, and she kissed him.

He hummed against her lips and she felt him pull her closer, his hand tracing up her arm to rest at the nape of her neck. A familiar bubble of arousal rose through her and she shifted in his lap, so that she was straddling him, knees bracketing his hips. Before they could get too carried away, however, they heard the unmistakable yells of Mrs Black’s portrait and the frantic, panicked voice of Hermione, apologising. 

“I think dinner's ready,” Tonks laughed against Remus’s neck, and they both rose and left the library to join the chaos downstairs. 

The days between Boxing Day and New Year’s Eve passed in a happy blur. Tonks told Dumbledore and the others about Malfoy’s appearance outside Finch’s office at the Boxing Day Order meeting, and although Dumbledore said he was unsure exactly what it meant, she was fairly sure he was not being entirely truthful. 

Tonks managed to get home on time every day except the evening of the 28th, when she and Dawlish were forced to work overtime in order to file a mountain of reports on illegal potion trading. Thankfully, she had both New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day off, so when the the 31st rolled round she was able to spend the day helping the Weasleys, Harry, Hermione, Remus, and Sirius prepare the house and the food for that evening’s festivities. Fred and George had to be constantly supervised after Arthur found them planting skiving snack-box sweets in amongst the Christmas chocolates, and Tonks was fairly sure she saw Sirius doing something vaguely suspicious to the door of Kreacher’s cupboard in the kitchen. He certainly moved quickly away from it when she cleared her throat at the bottom of the steps, and she recognised the mischievous glint in his dark eyes. 

By ten to eight they had everything prepared; the drawing room had been cleared of furniture and Sirius had managed to fix his old record player so that people could dance; the kitchen table was piled up with food ready to be sent around upstairs on trays; and the grand living room looked almost pleasant with its groupings of chairs and comfortable sofas. 

Tonks left the others downstairs and headed up to her room to get changed. She’d picked out her outfit a few days before; the same tight black dress she had worn the evening that she and Remus had gone to the Imp’s Eye. She was sure that he would notice, and sure that it would immediately make him think of that night, and what had transpired in the hours after their close call. She smiled to herself as she did her make up, keeping her hair pink but bringing it up into a short, straight bob. Back downstairs, she didn’t have to wait long to see Remus’s reaction. He was stood in the door to the living room with Sirius, sipping an elf-made beer, leaning on the doorframe in such a way that it accentuated his tall frame and broad shoulders. Tonks let her eyes sweep up his long legs, to the smart black of his jacket, noticing happily that he was wearing the shirt she had bought him for Christmas. 

When she reached the bottom step she cleared her throat, and both Remus and Sirius looked up from their conversation. She saw Sirius’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline in the corner of her eye, but her focus was on Remus, who had just taken a deep sip of beer when he’d seen her, and was now spluttering loudly, his face red, eyes wide. 

She struggled to keep her face straight as she moved towards them and said nonchalantly, “Evening, boys,”

“Wow, Tonks, you look incredible!” Sirius said enthusiastically, kissing her on one cheek.

Remus had finally recovered and said, quietly, “You do.”

Tonks slipped past the pair, letting her hand brush across Remus’s chest as she did so, and made her way into the living room. Kingsley, Dedalus, and Minerva were stood in a small group, chatting politely, and the teenagers were in another corner, crowded around Fred and George, who seemed to be telling some kind of intense and hilarious story. Tonks spotted Ginny, who was laying out sausage rolls on a levitating tray, and made her way over to help, taking a tumbler of fire whiskey from another tray on the way. She could feel Remus’s eyes boring into her from across the room.

By half past eleven, Tonks had passed mildly tipsy and was well on her way to being completed rat-arsed. She let Sirius pour her another glass of wine and watched Remus across the dark drawing room, through the mass of order members who had at some point in the last half hour begun dancing. She’d been teasing him all evening, approaching him and stopping for a few seconds at a time to brush casually past him or make an excuse to reach past him for a drink or something to eat. He was talking to Harry now, who was smiling contentedly, and, Tonks couldn’t help but notice, watching Ginny dance with wide, awe-struck eyes. She contemplated asking Remus to dance. She couldn’t imagine he would be particularly keen to do so, but then again, he had surprised her before. She was just about to set her glass down and march over to him when Sirius appeared at her side.

“Tonks,” He said, looking a little strained, “can I borrow your wand? There’s another colony of bloody doxies on the second floor, and I’m buggered if they’re getting into the drawing room again.”

“Oh,” Tonks said, a little caught off guard, “yeah, sure, here.” 

She handed him her wand and he was about to move away when he turned to her again and said, “You wouldn’t mind going to get some more firewhisky, would you? Mundungus has nearly drunk the lots. There’s some stacked up at the back of Kreacher’s cupboard.”

Later, Tonks would realise that this was the moment when she should have realised that Sirius was up to no good. Not only had she already seen him acting suspiciously around Kreacher’s cupboard earlier that very day, but it was also extremely out of character for Sirius to notice the state of the drinks cabinet, or to worry too much about the condition of the house. Unfortunately, however, Tonk was a bottle of wine and several firewhiskies worse for wear, and she accepted Sirius’s request without a second thought. 

Down in the empty kitchen, most of the party food had gone. The dining table was relatively bare, and Tonks squeezed herself between it and the sideboard to get to Kreacher’s cupboard. She hadn’t actually seen the inside of the cupboard before, and as she opened the door she saw that it was as she’d imagined; hardly larger than a downstairs toilet, floor piled high with various Black memorabilia, and what resembled a nest made of blankets in one corner. She looked up and saw the stacked boxes of firewhiskey bottles right at the top of the cupboard. Instinctively, she reached for her wand, then remembered she’d given it to Sirius. She turned, meaning to go and find someone to help, and bumped into Remus, who had come to the entrance of the cupboard.

“Need a hand?” He said, warmly, nodding up at the boxes.

“Please,” She replied, moving over so that he could step fully into the tiny room and help her pull them down. 

Neither of them noticed that the door was swinging slowly closed until they heard the soft, sudden click of the handle and they were thrown into total darkness. Tonks turned and leaned past Remus to open the door and let the light back in, but when she tried to turn the handle it wouldn’t budge. 

“Bugger,” She whispered in the darkness, feeling Remus turn behind her.

“Let me,” He said softly, and she felt his hand meet hers and move to try the door. It didn’t open. 

Tonks reached for her wand again, and realised Sirius still had it. 

“You’ll have to use your wand,” She told Remus, shuffling as far over as she could to give him some room to get it from his jacket. “I leant mine to Sirius.”

Remus was silent for several long moments, and then he said under his breath, “That sneaky little…”

“What?” 

“Sirius has my wand too. I leant it to him to clear some doxies from the second floor.”

“Oh, I am going to _kill_ him.” Tonks said, but she couldn’t stop herself from giggling as the ridiculousness of the situation and the alcohol overwhelmed her. 

“It’s not funny!” Remus said, a little hotly, and Tonks laughed harder.

“It kind of it,” She wheezed, “It really kind of is.”

Beside her, she heard Remus let out a resigned huff of laughter, and felt the warmth of his breath on her cheek as he dropped his head and shook it in amused resignation. 

“What the fuck are we going to do?” She said after a few more moments of breathless laughter.

“We’ll just have to wait it out,” Remus said, “someone’ll notice we’re missing soon enough and come and find us.” 

“It’s so bloody cramped in here,” Tonks said under her breath, shuffling around to try and find a bit of floor that wasn’t littered with photo frames. The darkness and the alcohol were making her head spin. Something snapped under her shoe and she almost fell to the floor, but Remus grabbed her around the waist and held her up. She slid her arms around his waist, partly to help her balance and partly because he was warm and smelt like earl grey and books and _Remus._ She buried her head in the scratchy wool of his suit jacket, humming contentedly when she felt his large hands on her back, rubbing comforting circles against the bare skin there. 

“You wore this dress on purpose, didn’t you?” Remus said, mirth in his voice.

“Of course I did,” Tonks replied, tilting her head up so that her chin rested on his ribcage. 

She noticed that his hand was travelling vaguely lower with each circling motion, so that soon the tips of his fingers were grazing her lower back, then down over the curve of her bottom. Fire pooled inside her, and despite the nagging voice in her head that was telling her that this was _exactly_ what Sirius wanted them to do, she didn’t care. Above them, in the weak light that was peaking through the crack at the top of the door, she noticed that there was a sprig of mistletoe tied to a copper pipe.

“Mistletoe,” She said, pointing to it, and Remus didn’t even bother to look before he kissed her.

They’d kissed many, many times now. Slow, lingering kisses, quick pecks, hot, passionate, overwhelming kisses that made her stomach flip. This one was something entirely new, however. The firewhisky and wine pulsing through her veins gave Tonks extra confidence, and as she felt Remus’s lips against hers she deepened the kiss immediately, taking control, pushing him back against the wall of the cupboard so that she could fist her hands in his hair and hold his head, keeping their mouths pressed together. She let her tongue explore his mouth furiously, nipping at his lips with her teeth, and Remus groaned, a deep, rumbling sound that went straight to her core. The tiny cupboard suddenly seemed even smaller. Remus’s hands were gripping her hips, holding her to him, and in one deft movement she grabbed both of his wrists and pinned them to the wall behind him, surprising him with the sudden movement. Remus was far stronger than she was, Tonks knew, but he seemed to like her taking control, and though he kept a constant tension in his arms, he didn’t push her away easily as she knew he could. 

They continued kissing like this for several long, intense minutes. Eventually, Remus did move one hand from where Tonks held it against the wall. He gripped her hip again, tugging her to him again, and she felt his erection, hard and hot, against her stomach. She laughed sultrily against his lips, pulling away from the kiss so that she could mouth at the stubbled skin of his neck. 

“Remus,” she said quietly into his collarbone, letting her teeth graze him lightly, “I want you to fuck me up against the wall of this cupboard.”

The noise he made in response was the hottest thing Tonks had ever heard. He turned them, forcefully, so that she was pressed up against the cold bricks, and lifted her bodily. Tonks wrapped her legs around Remus’s waist, moaning at the feel of his clothed cock as it pressed against the damp material of her knickers. He kissed her again, his tongue hot and insistent, the taste of firewhiskey on his breath, and then he was pulling her knickers out of the way, unbuttoning his trousers and not bothering to pull them down before pressing himself inside her. 

“Gods, you’re so wet,” Remus hissed against her cheek as he slid almost entirely out of her before pushing back in. “I’ve been hard since you came down the stairs in that fucking dress.”

Tonks felt waves of white hot pleasure wash over her at the sound of him swearing, as she always did; there was something about the way the word sounded on his tongue, in his clipped, deep tone, that drove her mad. 

“And then you kept brushing against me all evening, like you knew exactly what you were doing.” He was saying now, one hand holding her up, the other palming at her breast as he fucked her slowly against the wall. “You were driving me mad, you know. Gods, I wanted to pull you out of there and take you up to my room,”

“Remus,” she said, teasingly, fisting a hand in the dark hair at the base of his neck, “shut up and fuck me.”

He laughed at this, a harsh shout of a laugh, and then she felt him shift, moving both hands to hold under her hips so that he could thrust into her more vigorously. Tonks could feel the rough brick of the wall behind her grazing her back, and Remus’s fingers were pressing into her skin painfully, but she didn’t care because he was pounding into her now, their hips slamming together, pleasure coursing through her like magic. When she came she dug her nails into the back of his neck and fisted at the material of his jacket, biting down on his collar to stop herself from screaming out loud. Remus followed her over the edge almost immediately, pressing his mouth against hers and kissing her roughly through his orgasm. As they each came down, Tonks realised she could hear shouting from upstairs, some kind of chanting, rhythmic noise that she recognised dimly. Remus lowered her to the floor and she quickly rearranged her dress as he pulled his trousers up. They were both breathing heavily, and though Tonks could only see Remus’s outline in the darkness, she was sure he was flushed and sweating. The chanting seemed to reach a peak and she realised that it must be midnight: the New Year. 

She pushed herself onto her tiptoes and pulled Remus to her in a tight embrace. He wrapped his arms around her waist, still breathless and panting, and kissed her neck gently.

“Happy New Year, Remus,” She said quietly into the darkness.

Remus huffed out another laugh against her neck and replied, “Happy New Year, Dora.”

Sirius let them out ten minutes later, his face a wide, cheerful and entirely victorious grin. Tonks and Remus watched him take in their messy hair, crumpled clothes and guilty expressions and knew they had no chance of defending themselves. 

“If you say it,” Tonks said, following Remus out of the cupboard and snatching her wand from Sirius. “I will hex you,”

“Say what?” Sirius said, feigning innocence.

“You know exactly what, you little shit.”

“All I’m saying is, I told you we’d find you shagging in Kreacher’s cupboard eventually.”

Sirius sported a green, pustule-covered nose for almost two weeks before Tonks finally relented and told him the counter-curse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading, and for all the comments and kudos!
> 
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.


	16. We Have Seen the Enemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A post-Christmas adventure for Remus and Tonks.

Christmas, as it turned out, was the calm before the storm. 

Just two days after Tonks returned Sirius’s nose to its normal shape and colour, she was woken in the middle of the night by him. She and Remus were both in Remus’s room, curled up together beneath the blankets, when Sirius knocked the door frantically and burst in.

“Wake up, you two!” He hissed, holding a flickering candle out in front of him, the hot light dancingpainfully in Tonks’ eyes.

“Wassgoing on?” She said sleepily, pushing herself onto her elbows.

Remus, still asleep beside her, shifted and let out a gentle snore. He was an incredibly deep sleeper, Tonks had learned. He had, over the course of their relationship, slept through her knocking over the entire wardrobe, falling out of bed twice, and, miraculously, once managed to happily dream through a particularly vicious argument between Molly and Sirius while propped up in a chair in the kitchen. 

Turning to him now, Tonks gave him a less-than-gentle nudge in the ribs. He did not stir.

“Emergency meeting, in the kitchen, ten minutes.” Sirius said, his voice sharp and urgent. He held the candle over Tonks, passing it close to Remus’s face. “Moony!” He said loudly, “For Merlin’s sake, you great lump, wake up!”

Tonks gave Remus another nudge with her elbow, a little harder than before, and the dozing man gave a small start and opened his eyes, looking up to see Sirius’s face directly above him. He let out a startled yelp.

“Get up, you dozy tart,” Sirius said impatiently, as Remus looked frantically round at Tonks, his eyes wide and confused, “there’s been a break out at Azkaban. Dumbledore’s called a meeting.”

“Azkaban?” Tonks repeated, already pulling on a pair of woolly socks and a thick jumper. 

Sirius shrugged as if to say ‘you know as much as I do’, gave Remus another quick prod to stop him falling asleep again, and turned to leave. 

When he had gone, Remus got out of bed and began to dress, clearly still half asleep. Tonks lit the lamps with a quick flick of her wand, blinking in the harsh light, and handed him his cardigan. Then, together, they made their way downstairs. 

In the silent hallway, Mad-Eye was directing Dedalus Diggle, Bill Weasley, and Emmeline Vance into the kitchen, his magical eye fixed on the portrait of Mrs Black. Tonks gave Bill a slightly weak smile and followed him down the steps into the basement, Remus close behind her. Most of the order were already inside, sat around the crowded table and wedged into dark corners. Dumbledore stood at the head of the table. His face was pale, his half-moon spectacles reflecting the anxious faces of those around him. When Mad-Eye clumped down the last few steps and into the kitchen, shutting the door quietly behind him, he began to speak.

“Ten prisoners have escaped from Azkaban,” Dumbledore began, and Tonks was surprised at how anxious he sounded, “it appears that the Dementors have sided with Lord Voldemort, and have facilitated this mass breakout. I have-”

“Who’s escaped?” Sirius interrupted. Every face at the table looked first at him, and then back to Dumbledore.

“So far I only have the names of two of the escapees,” he said, slowly, “Antonin Dolohov and Bellatrix Lestrange.”

Tonks felt as though a blade of ice had been pressed against her spine. She gripped the back of the chair in front of her, concentrating hard on the pattern etched into the wood there, and fought back rising waves of panic. She had never met her aunt. She’d never wanted to; she knew only too well of the terrible, inhumane things that Bellatrix Lestrange had done, even if her mother never spoke of them. At school, she had heard whispered rumours of her atrocities on behalf of You-Know-Who, and had once been approached by a tall, thin seventh year who had asked with a quavering voice if she had ever met the most-feared Black sister. When she’d started her Auror training, Mad-Eye had been only too pleased to fill in the gaps on Lestrange’s crimes, warning Tonks that these were the types of people she would have to deal with, telling her sternly that she’d better get used to dark wizards, because that was what she’d signed up for. But Tonks had never encountered anyone like Bellatrix in all her years as an Auror. Quite honestly, she had prayed she never would, because the idea that someone could torture another human being to the point of insanity was almost too much to comprehend for Tonks. Her Aunt had always been safely, permanently behind bars. Now, with Dumbledore’s announcement, Tonks felt something like hatred seeping into her bones, settling at the very base of her spine, hot and sharp and dangerous. 

“We need to ascertain whether Lord Voldemort is planning an immediate reunion,” Dumbledore continued, “Severus is sure that they will use safe houses, including, possibly, the one that we know of in Hogsmeade. We’ll need to restart our watches on the old Apothecary.”

For the remainder of the night, the order sat up late discussing, planning, and lamenting. At ten-past-five, an owl delivered a copy of the _Daily Prophet,_ which was dutifully passed around so that all could read Fudge’s reaction to the night’s events. (“Bloody fool!” Arthur Weasley said harshly; “Imbecile.” Mad-Eye barked; Fleur Delacore, whom, Tonks noticed, Bill seemed unable to keep his eyes off, snorted hautily at the piece and threw it back onto the table in disgust.) When the paper reached Tonks, she held it so that she and Remus could both read it together. Remus lent careful over her shoulder, so that their heads were close; Tonks could hear the steady pattern of his breathing, could still smell her own perfume on his neck from where she had slept curled up against him. It was distracting, and she found herself reading the same line of the article several times. Remus always maintained a polite distance between them when they were around others, but now he let his chin rest, just slightly, on her shoulder, and she could feel the heat of his palm against the small of her back. No one around them had noticed, as it was so cramped in the room, but it made Tonks’ heart thump a little faster. She passed the paper on, turning back to watch Dumbledore, who was in intense conversation with Mad-Eye. 

“Mad-Eye is going to Azkaban now,” Dumbledore announced a few minutes later, “he will scope out Ministry protections, and report back early this evening. I’ve already sent Molly and Mary on first watch over the Apothecary. I suggest that the rest of you get some sleep. There are long days ahead.”

That evening, Mad-Eye returned from the North Sea, looking wind swept and sterner than Tonks had ever seen him. He stamped down into the kitchen, where the order had reassembled, and made his grim assessment.

“It’s chaos,” He said, his harsh voice somehow even rougher than usual, “the Ministry haven’t a clue whats going on, they’re all over the place - wouldn’t have noticed me if I’d gone in there naked on a bright pink hippogriff. The dementors are playing along, now that their most dangerous prisoners have escaped.”

His words rang out over the silent kitchen, and beneath the table, Tonks felt Remus move his hand to rest halfway up her thigh. He squeezed, reassuringly, then let his hand drop back into his lap. 

“We need to maintain a strong watch on the Apothecary,” Mad-Eye continued, “It’s only a matter of time before these ten rejoin You-Know-Who and then it’ll be too late.”

“I’ve drawn up a rota,” Dumbledore said when Mad-Eye had finished, and he gave a small flick of his wand and sent thirty neat slips of parchment floating out to each of the order members. 

Tonks glanced down at her piece of yellowing parchment as it came to rest on the table in front of her. She and Remus would be on duty Monday nights, from nine in the evening until six in the morning, and then again between six in the morning and four in the afternoon on Wednesday, every week for the foreseeable. With her Auror work and Department of Mystery watch shifts, she was going to be busier than ever. She folded up the parchment and slipped it into the pocket of her robes. There were more important things at stake now than her free time, she thought resolutely.

Their first two shifts in the flat over the Apothecary went without a hitch. Late Monday night, eight days after the Azkaban mass breakout, found Tonks in the dingy kitchen for the third time. Remus was dozing fitfully in the bedroom; she could hear the mattress creaking as he tossed and turned. At the last full moon he had dislocated and broken his shoulder in Grimmauld Place’s shabby, caged cellar, and although Molly had fixed it quickly enough, it had been paining him ever since. He wouldn’t tell Tonks it was hurting, but she could tell in the way he held himself, and by how badly he had been sleeping since. She thought, too, that he was worrying about Sirius; her cousin had been drinking more and more recently, and his elation at having visitors and a purpose over Christmas had been replaced with a brooding, dark mood that clouded number 12. 

She was just musing over this when she checked her watch and realised it was already ten past six. It was still pitch black outside. She stretched, stood, and pushed the bedroom door open. Remus opened his eyes immediately, and sat up, seemingly relieved that he could get up and stop trying to fall into a sleep that wouldn’t come. 

“Anything?” He asked, out of habit.

“Not even an owl about.” Tonks replied, and he smiled dolefully and began tying his shoelaces. 

Down on the street outside it was freezing. Tonks pulled her robes more tightly around herself, watching her breath fan out in great plumes in front of her. They’d almost reached the lane that led back to the high street when they heard voices moving towards them from around the sharp corner. Instinctively, Tonks reached out to push Remus back towards a small alley between the houses, but he was already moving that way, reaching out his own hand to pull her with him. The voices were growing louder, and before long they could make out the conversation.

“I’ve told you, he’s not sure,” Came a gruff, hoarse voice that Tonks didn’t recognise.

The second voice, she knew immediately; not by its sound, but by the reaction that Remus had. He blanched visibly as the muffled words, “Well he’d better decide soon, or he’ll have a little visit to look forward to, won’t he?”

_Greyback._ Remus mouthed at her in the darkness, and they both retreated further into the alley.

Tonks realised they were in danger as soon as Greyback and the second Death Eater rounded the corner and came to the front of the Apothecary. From their alley, she could see their silhouettes - Greyback really was enormous, well over six and a half feet tall, and almost as wide. Greyback stopped, raised his head and sniffed the air in a great, savouring pull. 

“What’re you doing?” The Death Eater asked, turning back from the door to watch the huge werewolf.

“I think we’ve got a little friend about,” Greyback said, and a jolt of white hot panic surged through Tonks.

Remus was gripping her hand now, and they were both stumbling backwards down the alley, but it was a dead end and the magical wards on the flat above meant that they couldn’t apparate from where they were. Suddenly, bizarrely, Tonks remembered how as a child her father had taken her to a muggle funfair, and she’d got lost in the mirror maze. She’d been stuck in it for almost half an hour, sobbing and shaking and stumbling around blindly, before her father found her and led her out. As she and Remus backed themselves against the solid wall at the end of the alley, she was inexplicably reminded of that experience. But the footsteps that were approaching them now were not the light, pleasant steps of her father, coming to rescue her; they were the hard, heavy pounding of Greyback’s huge boots. 

She could hear Remus’s fast breathing next to her, and it helped to ground her. They each raised their wands, and Tonks felt her head clear as Greyback’s towering sillouhette rounded the corner of the alley, followed by the smaller shadow of the Death Eater.

Tonks shot a stunner at the Death Eater just as Remus shot one at Greyback. The former hit the man squarely in the chest, and he sprawled backwards, but Remus’s spell merely glanced off of Greyback, repelled by an unseen, wandless shield charm. Greyback let out a great, harrowing bark of a laugh and lunged forward. Tonks yelled “ _Incarcerous!”_ and thick ropes shot out of the end of her wand, wrapping themselves around Greyback, binding him still for a moment, before he convulsed, straining, and they snapped like string. He started forwards again, deflecting another of Remus’s spells, and then he was on them, great, talonous nails digging into Tonks’ arms. She pulled away, firing hexes at close range into Greyback’s face, but he seemed impervious to them. Beside her, Remus was white-faced, also firing spells in quick succession at the werewolf, but none seemed to stick. Greyback’s huge, hairy hands gripped Tonks by the upper arm now, and she felt his nails pierce her skin, blood oozing out from the puncture marks. Greyback was dragging her back towards the mouth of the alley, and Remus was following at a jog, wand held aloft but not daring to attack lest his spell hit Tonks.

“Afraid I’m going to have to take your bitch off on a little trip for a while, cub,” Tonks heard Greyback shout at Remus, and her stomach lurched horribly. She fought against his grip desperately, trying to get her wand up but her other arm was pinned to her side by one of Greyback’s huge fists, and it was hopeless. She could see Remus’s face through the darkness behind her, white and petrified, shouting something, but she couldn’t hear what because the blood was pounding so heavily in her ears. She knew she had only seconds before Greyback dragged her outside of the flat’s protective wards and apparated them away. She cleared her mind, bringing Mad-Eye’s scarred, serious face into view in front of her, and thought hard about the long tedious sessions of muggle self-defence he had forced her to take during her training. 

“Use your opponent’s strength against them,” she could hear him telling her, and with one last, desperate effort, she forced her arms up, over her head, felt Greyback’s grip slip slightly, and then she grabbed his wrist, twisted hard, and pulled. The werewolf let out a howl of pain as his wrist snapped, letting his grasp on her drop, and Tonks turned, stumbling backwards into Remus’s arms. She felt him turn them both on the spot, and the suffocating darkness swallowed her. 

They landed, panting and sweating and clinging to each other, on the front step of number 12. With a shaking hand, Remus tapped the door with his wand and they staggered over the threshold. The hallway was dark and quiet, but after a second Sirius appeared at the top of the stairs. He realised something was wrong immediately, and Tonks heard his hurried footsteps as he took the last few steps at a jump and rounded the bannister to hurry towards them.

“What’s happened?” He whispered harshly as he reached them. “Remus- is Tonks okay? Merlin, she’s bleeding.”

Tonks realised dully that Remus was supporting most of her weight. She stood, shakily, and wobbled, falling back against him. Blood was indeed seeping down her arms, staining her robes, and dripping onto the dark wooden floor. She felt light-headed and queasy, as though she’d just sprinted or stood up too quickly. 

“Greyback,” She heard Remus tell Sirius, as the shorter man pulled Tonks’ other arm over his shoulder. 

“Fuck, she’s not- he didn’t?” Sirius’s voice was panicked as the two men began to help Tonks down the corridor towards the kitchen.

“No, it’s not the full moon, Sirius,” Remus replied, and there was a harsh edge to his voice. “He grabbed her- scratched her, I think. I’m not sure, it all happened so quickly.”

Tonks let Remus and Sirius guide her down the basement steps and into the kitchen, listening as Remus quickly recounted the morning’s events. When they lowered her into a hard backed chair, she shook her head a little and cleared her throat.

“I’m okay,” She said, quietly, pulling her cloak off to check the wounds that Greyback’s nails had made in her arms. They were deep - far deeper than she’d initially thought - and blood was still freely pouring from them. “Can one of you heal these, please?” She said, a little irritated that neither Remus or Sirius had offered yet. Remus, in fact, was scrabbling around in the tall cabinet at the back of the kitchen. 

He looked up when she spoke and said, severely, “Spells won’t work. The wounds are cursed. Here,” He had found what he was looking for a pulled it from the cupboard; it was a small pot, filled with shining particles that Tonks recognised as silver. He took a jar of dittany from his pocket and began mixing the two substances, directing Sirius to find some clean bandages. 

Tonks, whose arms were now throbbing horribly, sending great waves of pain through her, leant back in the uncomfortable chair and tried not to think about Greyback’s hot, hideous breath on her neck and the hard, painful pressure of his nails in her flesh. She felt dizzy and sick again. 

“This mixture will seal the wounds,” Remus said, as he knelt down next to her and gently took her arm in his hand, “It’ll sting for a second, I’m sorry.” 

He smoothed the grey ointment over each of the claw marks. Pain shot through each in turn, and Tonks winced, tears prickling in her eyes, then it receded, and she watched as the ointment frothed on her skin and the bleeding slowed and finally stopped. Remus gently bandaged her arms, his hands still shaking, the white, cool cloth soothing on Tonks’s hot skin. She let her head fall back against the back of the chair with a soft _thunk._

“I’m sorry,” Remus said, turning away and starting to clean the splatters of blood off of the worn flagstone floor with distracted flicks of his wand.

“S’not your fault,” Tonks replied, accepting a glass of water from Sirius and taking a large, shaky gulp.

“It is.” Remus replied, and though his voice was quiet in the slowly brightening kitchen, it still had a harsh edge. “If I hadn’t been there he wouldn’t have come after you. He smelt me - he knew there was another werewolf there.”

“You don’t know that, Moony,” Sirius said gently, but Remus gave him a sharp look and he trailed off.

“We both saw it happen, Sirius. Tonks  – you saw him sniff the air outside the Apothecary. He _knew,_ Sirius, and when he cornered us he grabbed Tonks and it was my fault!” Remus’s voice raised as he spoke, until he was almost shouting.

Tonks had never seen him like this – he was red in the face, breath coming hard and fast as he looked at her with wide, terrified eyes.

“He was going to take you, Tonks. He came after you because of me and I can’t–” He stopped talking abruptly, dropped his gaze from Tonks and crossed the kitchen in five long paces. “I have to go and tell Dumbledore what happened. I’ll be back late.” And then he was gone. 

Remus didn’t return until late that evening. Tonks was already in bed when she heard the bedroom door click open and then the familiar sound of Remus’s footsteps on the wooden floor. The bed sagged under his weight as he sat down to toe off his shoes. He pulled off his jumper and shirt in the darkness, unbuckled his trousers and then slipped under the covers next to her. Cautiously, Tonks reached out for him, fingertips brushing his bare shoulder hesitantly, terrified that he was going to leap from the bed and leave again, but he didn’t. He let her wrap herself around him, and when she sought out his mouth and pressed her lips to his he kissed her back with a kind of hesitant urgency. 

“I’m sorry,” He said into the darkness.

“It wasn’t your fault.” Tonks replied, pressing light, feathering kisses along the strong line of his jaw.

“Maybe not,” He conceded, then continued, “I’m sorry I ran out this morning. I just… Gods, I can’t bear the thought of you getting hurt because of me.”

“I’m fine, Remus, really I am.”

“I know,” He said, sadly, “but what if one day you’re not?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.  
> There'll be another four chapters after this one, taking us up to the end of the OoTP.
> 
> As always, thank you all so much for reading/commenting/kudosing!


	17. The House That Dripped Blood

“Have you seen this?”

Sirius’s voice broke Tonks out of her revery, and she blinked a few times. It was early in the morning, and she was due at work in a short while after a late night guarding the corridor outside the Department of Mysteries. Yawning, she forced her eyes to focus on the magazine Sirius had thrust onto the kitchen table in front of her.

_“HARRY POTTER SPEAKS OUT AT LAST: THE TRUTH ABOUT HE-WHO-MUST-NOT-BE-NAMED AND THE NIGHT I SAW HIM RETURN”_ The headline read, in gold flashing letters beneath today’s date: 22nd February 1996. Tonks looked from the page to Sirius, who was grinning as though he had just played a particularly good prank. 

“What-?” Tonks said, lifting the magazine and turning quickly to page six, where a large, moving image of Harry headed a four-page spread on his experience in the graveyard the previous June. 

“I’ve got no idea,” Sirius said, still grinning, “but it’s bloody brilliant. Read it - go on!” 

So Tonks read. The article had been written by Rita Skeeter, a journalist Tonks usually despised, but the interview was all Harry; intense and systematic, but undeniably real and overwhelmingly honest. When she’d finished, she laid the magazine back onto the table and looked across at Sirius, who had sat down opposite her and was enthusiastically sipping a large mug of coffee.

“That boy really is awesome,” she murmured, “but he’s going to be in a heap of trouble when Umbridge finds out about this.”

Sirius barked out a laugh. “He’s James’s son, alright. Gods, he’d have loved him.” Sirius swallowed loudly, and turned his attention back to his coffee cup.

Tonks pretended not to notice the slight wobble in Sirius’s voice, or the shake that had taken over his hands as they cupped his mug. They sat in silence for several moments, then the kitchen door opened softly and Remus came in, looking sleepy and rumpled in an oversized sweater and his pyjama trousers.

“Didn’t expect to see you this morning,” Tonks said brightly; when she’d left him in bed fifteen minutes ago he’d been sound asleep, snoring softly beneath a pile of blankets.

Remus yawned and padded slowly over to sit beside her, glancing cursorily at the magazine and then doing a double-take. 

“What’s this?” He said, reaching out for it, and Tonks slid it across the polished wood towards him. 

“Harry’s done an interview with that Skeeter woman,” Sirius said excitedly, “it’s brilliant, Moony, really brilliant.”

Remus was quiet for several moments as he read the interview, his eyes darting across the page at high speed. He was an exceptionally fast reader - so fast that he would often get through entire novels before Tonks had even read a few pages of a work report. When he’d finished, he lowered the magazine and shook his head, as if in disbelief.

“He’s James through-and-through.” He said quietly, then, expression turning a little sterner, added, “Just as reckless, anyway. Umbridge is going to be _furious_ about this. I expect Dumbledore already knows, and I can’t imagine he’ll be too pleased, either.”

“Oh, come on, you two,” Sirius said, draining the rest of his coffee and putting it down on the table with a sharp thunk, “someone had to stand up and put the truth out there, and I’m glad it was Harry. Fudge and Umbridge are destroying every chance we’ve got against Voldemort every time they open their mouths. Maybe this’ll help persuade people that they’re talking bollocks.”

Remus made a noncommittal noise and stood up to butter a slice of toast. Tonks said nothing, all too aware that Sirius was wont to descend into dark moods extremely quickly these days. Instead, she grabbed her cloak off the coat hook, kissed Remus goodbye, and left for work. 

It seemed that everyone had read Harry’s interview. Wherever Tonks went that day, Ministry workers and visitors were discussing it in hushed voices. In the corridor outside her office, she heard Proudfoot and Smythe, an older Auror she’d only worked with a few times, arguing tersely over whether it really was a genuine interview with Harry Potter.

The furore surrounding the Quibbler article did not die down quickly. Even as February faded into March, Tonks continued to hear her colleagues and friends constantly discussing it. Tonks herself managed to avoid getting into any awkward conversations. If it came up in casual conversation, she shrugged and tried to move the conversation on; she had too many other things to think about. This was particularly true one evening in early March. As Tonks hurried out of the Ministry at ten to five, she glanced nervously at the slowly setting sun. She had promised Sirius that she would help him tonight with Remus’s transformation. Sirius himself was ill; he’d caught a cold off of Dedalus Diggle at an Order meeting last week, something he was furious about (“I don’t even leave this bloody house and I still manage to catch a cold!” He’d said through a blocked nose that morning at breakfast). 

Remus was entirely against Tonks having anything to do with his transformation. For the last six months, since Tonks had moved in, he had forbidden her from being anywhere near the dark, damp cellar of 12 Grimmauld Place on the night of the full moon. Sirius’s illness, however, had forced him to admit that it made sense for Tonks to know how to care for him during these nights.

“If something happened to me, Moony, who’d look after you? It’s awful when you’re alone, you know that.” Sirius had told him sternly that morning, as he blew his nose into his third handkerchief. “You’ve got to let Tonks learn how to help you, mate.”

Remus had responded with a sort of grumpy murmur of assent, and so Tonks found herself crouched on the dirty floor of the lower cellar that evening, watching as Sirius used Remus’s wand to seal him inside a large, iron cage that was bolted down between the floor and the thick stone of the ceiling. 

Remus looked awful; he had been growing progressively paler and sweatier all day. He was positively feverish now, his cheeks sallow and his damp hair slicked down to his forehead as he paced the cell restlessly. He’d stripped down to his underwear, and he was shivering in the chilly, dank air. 

“It’s okay, Remus,” Tonks said, in what she hoped was a calming voice.

“You don’t have to be here, Dora,” Remus said, turning to face her through the bars. “I’ll be okay with just Sirius, if you want to go to bed.”

“It’s fine, Remus, honestly. I want to be here. I want to help you.” She said softly, stepping towards him to stroke his cheek through the bars of the cage. He flinched away.

“It’s starting.” He said, quite suddenly, and Sirius pulled Tonks back, into the shadowed corner of the cellar.

Watching a wild beast force its way out of the body of the man she loved was undoubtedly the worst thing Tonks had ever witnessed. That was what it looked like, anyway; as though the wolf was consuming Remus one broken bone at a time. To begin with, he just went very rigid, his arms clamped around his waist, and then, with a sickening, hideous _crunching_ sound, Tonks saw his back convulse and lengthen. Sharp, pointed talons sliced through the ends of his fingers - they looked exactly how Greyback’s nails had felt against Tonks’ skin, and the still-present wounds on her arms prickled uncomfortably with this memory. Remus arched suddenly, the bones in his legs crunching, his shoulders thinning, as his body continued to change.

Within a few short minutes there was nothing left that Tonks would recognise as Remus Lupin. The creature in the cage was all wolf - long and lithe - strangely human looking as it continued to convulse horribly, but nothing of _Remus._ Despite this, when the creature collapsed, landing hard on one side, and making a small, hoarse whimper, Tonks had to stop herself from rushing towards the cage.

The wolf raised itself up cautiously on all four paws, sniffing the air. It spotted Sirius and Tonks immediately, and made to launch itself at them, but was forced back by whatever magic Sirius had imbued into the iron bars. 

“Creatorius spell on the bars.” Sirius whispered into Tonks’ ear, “I’ve charmed them to repel non-human creatures. He can’t get out; not while he’s a wolf.”

Tonks nodded in the darkness, not trusting herself to speak. The wolf was still watching them, predatorily, its amber eyes flashing dangerously in the dim light from the flickering candle by the door. 

“He’ll probably go to sleep after a while,” Sirius said, lazily, stretching out onto the cushion he’d brought down from the drawing room. “I usually stay as Padfoot overnight – helps calm him down. D’ya mind?”

Tonks shook her head and watched as Sirius transformed into the familiar shaggy dog. It did seem to calm Remus; he stopped pacing immediately and, though he continued to watch them, his eyes seemed less wild. 

Tonks tried to get comfortable on the makeshift bed she’d arranged on the floor. Usually, she could sleep just about anywhere, but tonight she found herself continuously opening her eyes to check on Remus. It wasn’t that she was scared, lying there in the near-darkness. It felt more like a part of herself was missing. She had expected for the wolf to simply replace Remus, to arrive as he left, but she realised now that this had been a rather stupid idea to have. The wolf was holding Remus hostage, she thought with a shiver, and she had to wait for daybreak to find out what state it would return him in. 

At some point, she must have fallen asleep, because she was woken by Sirius’s wet, rough dog-tongue licking her ear.

“That is disgusting!” Tonks hissed, pushing him away and raising her head.

It was still dark in the cellar, but she could tell from the stillness that it was morning. Padfoot was sat up next to her, his tail thumping the floor. He turned his head to look at the cage, and Tonks looked too. Sure enough, the wolf had curled up in the far corner, asleep against the rough stone wall. As she watched, it twitched, jerking upright suddenly, and then let out a high, horrible howl of pain. Shaking, Tonks knelt up and shuffled out from under her blanket. Once again, the cellar was filled with the crunching, snapping sound of bones breaking, and the wolf was changing, its back shortening, fur knitting into skin, talons retracting and reforming into the neat, short nails on the beautiful pale hands Tonks knew so well. 

Remus Lupin slumped back into the wall, his head falling into his lap, arms splayed out around him in a kind of halo, and Sirius was on his human feet in an instant, pulling Remus’s wand out of his pocket and deftly unsealing the cage. Tonks followed him, swallowing down bile as he gently rolled Remus over, revealing two deep gashes down one side where the bones of his ribs had broken through his pale skin. 

“ _Episky”_ Sirius said, trailing his wand over Remus’s side. 

The bones beneath the skin healed instantly, but the gashes remained, bleeding thickly onto the dusty floor. 

“Grab some of those bandages and the dittany,” Sirius said, pointing to a pile of white cloths by his cushion. 

Silently, Sirius and Tonks patched Remus up. He had other cuts; one long, thin laceration on his upper thigh, and a deep gouge on one wrist. There were bruises too, under the skin on his legs and shoulders and ribs. He looked like he’d been beaten up from the inside out, which, Tonks supposed, he had. 

When they’d bandaged all of his cuts and gently dabbed dittany across the myriad of bruises, Sirius wiped his brow and said, panting slightly from man-handling the still-unconscious werewolf, “not too bad this time.” 

“Right,” Tonks managed to reply, her voice shaking. 

“We’ll take him up to bed now.” Sirius said, quite matter of factly, and together they gently levitated Remus out of the dark cellar, through the kitchen and up the stairs to his bedroom. 

Remus slept for the rest of the morning. He looked peaceful in his sleep, despite the deep purple bruises across both cheeks. Tonks stroked his hair and spoke quietly to him, though she knew he couldn’t hear her. She sat with him until she had to leave for work at ten o’clock, and when she got home she dumped her cloak over the bannister and hastily sprinted up the stairs. He was still asleep as she pushed the door gently open, but he opened his eyes blearily when she slid into bed beside him. 

“Hello,” She whispered, lying down on her side so that they were facing each other, noses nearly touching. “How do you feel?”

“Oh, I’ve felt worse.” He replied.

She kissed him then, and she felt him smile, just slightly, against her lips. They were together, and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooof, it's getting a bit angsty. Don't worry - next chapter is Remus's birthday, so there will be some more cheer there.  
> Chapter title is from a song of the same name by the Mountain Goats, because they rock, and tMG fans are the best people.  
> I do intend to follow this through the next book, but I will probably take a break as there are some one-shots I'd like to write in between.  
> As always, thank you so much for reading and commenting! <3


	18. Harbor Me

It rained all day on Remus’s birthday; fat great globes of water that seemed never-ending. When Tonks left early for work it was pouring, and as she hurried back up the steps of number 12 Grimmauld Place that evening, it was bucketing it down. Remus was waiting for her by the door when she pushed it open and stepped inside, her coat dripping onto the dark floor. He looked adorable, already dressed in his favourite brown suit, the shirt Tonks had bought him for Christmas buttoned up to the collar, an expression of hardly-contained excitement on his face. She’d told him to be ready to leave when she got back from work, as she’d planned a surprise, and as she looked at him, stood so eagerly on the doormat, she couldn’t help but grin.

“You look great,” she said, planting a kiss on his cheek, careful not to drip rain water onto him, “I’ll just run upstairs and get changed and I’ll be ready.” 

Ten minutes later found them out on the grass opposite number 12. Tonks took Remus’s hand in hers and turned them both on the spot, concentrating hard on the small, sandy beach she’d visited so many times as a child. The apparated with a _pop,_ and when she opened her eyes she was pleased to find the beach exactly as she remembered it; empty, isolated, and entirely beautiful. 

“We came here a lot when I was a kid,” she explained, looking out across the water to where the sun was just beginning to dip below the horizon. “I thought we could have a picnic; I bought food and blankets.”

“It’s beautiful” Remus said, after a few moments, his eyes fixed on the sky and the gentle, lapping waves at the shore.

Tonks let her eyes slide from the skyline to his face. She took in how the fading sunlight played across his cheeks, illuminating the rough scars and his gentle smile. “It is.” She agreed.

Together, they unpacked the bag Tonks had bought with her, laying out blankets and cushions across the sand. Remus lit a small campfire with his wand. Sirius had made them a platter of small pies and cakes and fruit - Tonks didn’t trust her own cooking skills - and Tonks had managed to find a bottle of champagne that hadn’t been bewitched by Sirius’s father, buried at the back of the pantry. 

When they’d arranged everything, they settled down by the fire, side-by-side, looking out across the ocean. The food was delicious; Sirius’s cooking had been improving even as his mood became sourer and sourer. They spoke intensely about the Order for a while, although they had both promised that they wouldn’t that night. Tonks told Remus about how bad things were getting at the Ministry, about the constant suspicion and quiet, insidious rumours that were spreading. They spoke about Hogwarts, too. Harry had been unable to write any more letters after Hedwig was attacked, but Tonks had had one from Ginny which was vague but definitely hinted that things were bad there too. 

After an hour or so, when they had moved on from talking about Voldemort and the Ministry, Tonks said quietly, “you’ve never asked me to change anything.”

She wasn’t sure what made her say it. She’d been thinking about it for a while, about how Remus had never asked her to make herself taller, or shorter, or thinner. If she returned from work having morphed for a job, he usually told her - reminded her - as though she had forgotten to take her coat off. He wanted _her,_ not a version of her that had a nicer nose, or plumper lips or a straighter smile. He had never even asked her about her metamorphmagus abilities. Others were always requesting their favourite funny face, or trying to get her to describe exactly how she did it, always entirely fascinated by it. 

“What do you mean?” Remus asked now, taking a bite out of a sausage roll.

“You never ask me to morph myself,” she replied, leaning back on one shoulder and looking up at him, “you never really ask about it at all. People are usually obsessed with it, when they first meet me. It’s all they want to know about. About whether I can do an impression of their Great Aunt Tessie or the Minister of Magic or their owl. But you never have.”

Remus was quiet for a moment, his expression characteristically unreadable.

“I never felt the need to ask,” He said, turning to look at her, and she was struck by how blue his eyes were, how they seemed to draw in the now gloomy sunlight. “That first night we met, when you fell down the kitchen stairs with your bright pink hair and that infectious grin, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I fell in love with you, Dora, and you’re entirely perfect as you are.”

“You could charm the pants off a gargoyle, you know,” Tonks said, unable to hold his gaze, feeling heat rise in her cheeks.

Remus laughed, and she basked in it; in the deep, even sound and the way it seemed to shave a decade from his tired face. The sun dipped further, casting the long, jagged shadow of the cliff across the sand in front of them, and Tonks turned to scrabble inside her bag.

“Happy birthday, Remus.” She said quietly, pulling a small package out of the bag and placing it, carefully, on the blanket between them. 

“You didn’t have to, Dora, really, I-” Remus began, his face flooding with colour, but Tonks cut him off.

“Shut up and open it, you great stubborn lump.”

He laughed again at this ridiculous insult, and dutifully began loosening the knotted string. It took him a while - Tonks really was quite awful at wrapping - but eventually he peeled back the paper to reveal an elegant gold pocket watch. Tonks had spent hours choosing it. She’d visited every jewellery shop in Diagon Alley to find the perfect one, desperately trying to decide which one suited Remus best. She knew he had very few possessions; his bedroom at Grimmauld Place was even sparser than her own, and most of his things were old or second hand. He never complained, of course, and never intimated that he was unhappy with this situation. As he did with everything, Remus simply got on with life, making the best of what he had. But he deserved something that was new and just for him. He’d worn the shirt she’d bought him for Christmas almost constantly, revelling in its crisp collar and tidy sleeves. This watch, which Remus was now gazing at in silent shock, she had seen in the window of the last shop she’d visited, and as soon as she’d seen it she knew that it was the one. It was simple and classic, with a plain face and a thin gold chain. 

“As soon as I saw it I knew it was meant to be yours,” she told him, watching as he picked it carefully out of its wrappings, turned it over, and read the words she had had inscribed onto the back.

_To Remus,_

_Love always,_

_Dora  
10/03/1996_

“I… I don’t know what to say, Dora,” he said, very quietly.

His voice was rough with emotion, and he continued to look down at the watch in his hands with such intensity that Tonks was sure he might burn a hole through the back of it. 

“You like it?” Tonks asked, suddenly afraid that she’d done something terribly wrong.

“Yes, Gods, yes. It’s beautiful. It’s really beautiful.”

“What’s wrong?” She asked.

“Nothing, really, it’s just… I had a watch, once. Sirius bought it for me, for my seventeenth birthday.” He swallowed, loudly, and she noticed that his hand was shaking slightly. “When he was arrested, I destroyed it.”

He looked at her then, and relief swept over her when he smiled quite suddenly and said, a hint of laughter in his voice, “it was just like this one. I remember when he gave it to me he told me it looked like me - looked like it was meant to be mine. You and he are the two people I love most, and I suppose you both know me better than anyone. Thank you, Dora.”

Tonks leant forward to kiss him, softly. He tasted of lemon drizzle cake and the fresh salt air, and she deepened the kiss, nipping gently at his lower lip with her teeth, drawing her arm up to rest at the nape of his neck. He made a soft noise in the back of his throat, and the watch fell, gently, back onto the wrapping paper as he wrapped a long arm around her and pulled her towards him. Tonks rolled them, so that she was balanced precariously in his lap, one hand on either side of his head to support herself. Her jacket was caught on the blanket and she pulled it off of her shoulders, throwing it away from them with such force that Remus laughed against her lips. 

“You’re eager,” he said, teasingly, pulling away to look at her. 

His pupils were huge in the moonlight, and his hair was wild from where she’d been running her fingers through it. She dipped down to kiss him again, a warm, comfortable heat building between her thighs. Even through their respective layers of clothes she could feeling him hardening beneath her, and she rocked her hips forwards, just slightly, eliciting a soft groan from him. She made to move off of him, but he gripped her waist and held her there. 

“Now who’s eager?” She retorted, pulling back the collar of his shirt so that she could kiss the pale, unmarred skin of his collarbone. 

“We should - ah, _Gods_ , Dora - we should go home, if you want” he stammered as she kissed her way back up his neck, nipping at the juncture of his throat. 

“Or,” Tonks whispered against the shell of his ear, “we could stay _right here_.” She punctuated the last two words by rolling her hips against him, grinding her covered sex against the hard line of his cock. 

“I-“ Remus groaned, louder than before, as she flicked her tongue against his ear, “ _fuck_ , okay.”

He turned them, rolling so that she was pinned beneath him on the woollen blanket. The sun had set completely now, and in the flickering firelight Tonks could only make out the strong, broad outline of him above her and the bright blue and black of his eyes, illuminated by the flames. 

He moved one hand up to her face, cupping her cheek as he kissed her, then traced it down over her neck, brushing the line of her throat with the back of his hand. His fingers were warm despite the cold sea air, and he trailed his hand over her breast, pausing to brush the tip of his thumb over her nipple. Tonks moaned, the heat building between her thighs, hot and insistent. 

“Please, Remus” she hissed, hoarsely.

“Please what?” Remus replied, and she could _hear_ the mocking grin in his voice.

“Touch me.”

He laughed, and the deep sound made her heart thump in her chest. Kissing her gently, he moved down so that he was between her thighs. She could tell from his fumbling movements as he unbuttoned her jeans and dragged them slowly down her legs that his hands were shaking, and the realisation that _she_ made him like this, that _she_ was the cause of his distracting, all-encompassing desire sent a thrill through her. She gasped at the first press of his lips to the bare skin of her upper thigh. He kissed her lazily, dragging his lips over the hot flesh of her legs, avoiding where she wanted him, teasing her. She moaned impatiently and he took pity on her, finally dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers and pulling them off. When he’d removed them, discarding them uncharacteristically carelessly with her jeans, he rested his check against her thigh and blew lightly over her bare sex. 

“Fucking _hell_ , Remus,” she said, her voice loud over the crackling fire. 

She should have been cold, lying, almost naked in the March sea air, but the goosebumps that covered her had nothing to do with the temperature. When Remus finally, _finally,_ lowered his mouth to her and dragged his tongue gently over her entrance, up to her clit, it felt like the fire beside them had engulfed her. He began to lap at her, long, slow strokes that made her legs shake. She buried her hands in his hair, holding him to her, scratching at his scalp with her nails, and now he was moaning, the sound rumbling in his throat deliciously. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, raising his head to look at her. 

“And you’re _incredibly_ good at th- _shit_ ,” she replied, swearing as he lowered his head again and pressed one long finger inside her.

He really was quite exceptionally talented with his fingers. She remembered, vaguely, that teasing exchange they’d had all those months ago in the flat opposite the apothecary, when he’d massaged her wrist with such skill that she’d told him his fingers were magic. She could still see the mischievous, intoxicating grin he’d given her, and the infuriating way he’d sipped casually from his flash as he’d said, flippantly _It’s been said before._

He was proving now just how accurate that statement was, sliding a second finger into her, curling both skilfully and brushing the place inside her that made her toes curl into the blanket. The stubble of his jaw was rough against her thigh, and the combination of all of it, his fingers, his tongue, and the wild, intoxicating way he was watching her pushed her over the edge suddenly. She came, feeling her cunt flutter around his fingers, eyes locked with his. It seemed to go on for many minutes, tiny aftershocks shaking through her as he continued to fuck her with his fingers. Finally, she collapsed back against the blanket, panting and shivering. She felt Remus move, crawling up to tuck himself behind her, wrapping an arm around her protectively, kissing the back of her neck. She raised herself up, turning in his arms to face him, pressing their lips together again. She could taste herself on his tongue. It was unbelievably hot, and she snaked her hands between them to the button of his flies, flicking it open with surprising ease, considering how much she was still shaking. 

“Oh, Dora, you don’t have to,” he said, as she slid his zip down.

“I know,” she replied, “but I want to. Do you want me to?”

“I- yes, please,”

She slipped her hand inside his trousers, turning them so that now he was on his back, with her hovering above him. She kissed the hollow of his throat, unbuttoned a few of his shirt buttons to lap at the scarred, beautiful skin there, and then shuffled down, so that she was between his thighs, kneeling on the blanket. 

Even in the low light she could see how hard he was, the shadows dancing over the solid line of his cock. She tugged his trousers down over his hips, pulling his shoes off with them, and then dragged his pants down too, pausing to kiss one small, deep scar on his upper right thigh. That alone was enough to drag a soft moan from him, and when she wrapped her hand around his erection and gave it a gentle, sure stroke he gasped, hands fisting the blanket, grains of sand shifting on the rough wool. 

“What do you want?” She asked.

“Fuck _, anything,_ please.” He replied.

“My mouth?”

“Yes - _Gods,_ please _,_ Dora.”

She bent over him, trailed her tongue from the base of his cock to the tip, revelled in his sharp intake of breath and the almost silent, gasping moan he made. He was watching her, she knew; she could feel his eyes on her, and she looked up at him as she took into her mouth.

“ _Fuck,_ ” he sighed, the word sounding positively filthy in his well-spoken accent. 

She pulled up, swirling her tongue around the head of his cock, continuing to pump him with her hand, then bobbed her head back down, taking in as much of him as she could. She continued like this for several minutes, as Remus moaned beneath her and gripped the blanket, knuckles white in the orange light. She moved one hand, taking his fist in hers, moving it into the soft pink hair of her head, and he let his hand rest there, barely. When she swallowed around his cock he gasped, and she felt his fingers twitch against her scalp. She pressed her head back into his fingers, moaning encouragingly and he took the hint, threading his fingers more surely through her hair and holding her there. She could feel her own arousal building again, flashing hot when she felt his hips twitch as she hollowed her cheeks around his cock. 

“Fuck… Dora, _fuck,_ I want to be inside you, please,” he stammered, releasing the fist in her hair, dragging her up to kiss him.

They kissed furiously, lips and teeth crashing together carelessly. She felt his hands grip her hips, fingertips digging into the soft flesh there, and she reached between them to hold his cock steady as she lowered herself onto him. She moved slowly, adjusting to the thick length of him inside her, filling her completely. Beneath her, he sat up, supporting himself with one arm, the other still wrapped around her, holding her to him. The change in angle was perfect; she could feel the hard length of him pressing her inner walls deliciously, hitting all the right places, and she began to move again, a little faster than before. 

“ _Gods_ , you have no idea how good you feel,” he said, shakily, pressing his lips to her shoulder. “you’re fucking perfect, do you know that?”

Usually, Remus was fairly quiet in bed, but on the lonely, isolated beach his voice came out loud and rough, almost overpowering beside the gentle crackling fire and the soft lapping of the waves. Tonks rocked her hips, rolling them, gasping as the movement brought her clit into contact with the solid line of his lower stomach. Remus released her hip and moved his hand between them, his thumb finding the tight bundle of nerves easily. He began to stroke her expertly, and she could feel herself climbing towards another climax, her head full of _Remus_ and the sounds of the beach and their harsh, panting breaths. Remus lowered his head again, capturing her lips with his, nipping less-than-gently at her lower lip and that was enough to push her over the edge once more. She stilled above him, squeezing his cock with her cunt, dragging ragged groans from both of them. Her second orgasm was more intense even than the first, and she clung to him, fingernails digging into his back as her body convulsed above him, ecstasy rushing through her. Remus continued to thrust up into her, repeating her name softly like a prayer, and she felt the hot, wet rush as he came inside her. 

“I love you,” she told him as they each came down.

He pressed an open mouthed kiss to her neck, and whispered “I love you,” into the skin there.

Tonks rolled off him so that they were spooning again, both still half-dressed, the amber firelight dancing across their faces. The blanket they’d been lying on was now crumpled and half-covered with sand, the grains sticking to their legs, but neither noticed in their post-sex haze.

“Happy birthday, Remus,” Tonks said, quietly, and Remus moved the arm that was wrapped around her to pluck the forgotten pocket-watch from a fold of the blanket. 

“Thank you,” he replied, gripping the watch in a three fingered fist, using his index finger to trace a gentle line up the curve of her hip. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a lovely chapter to write, and I wish we could just leave it here, but unfortunately there are two chapters left and we all know how that goes...  
> The title of this chapter is from a Mountain Goats song of the same name.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading and commenting.


	19. Love Love Love

_Some things you'll do for money and some you'll do for fun_

_But the things you do for love are going to come back to you one by one_

_Love, love is going to lead you by the hand_

_Into a white and soundless place_

_Now we see things as in a mirror, dimly_

_Then we shall see each other face to face_

  * Love Love Love, The Mountain Goats



After, Tonks would forget waking in the early hours of the morning of the 18th June, just as the sun began to stream in through the moth-eaten curtains. She would forget watching Remus as he slept soundly beside her, tracing the line of his jaw with her eyes, listening to his gentle breathing. She would remember getting out of bed and dressing in the half-light, aware that she was running late for work, but she wouldn’t remember the casual, delicate kiss she pressed against Remus’s forehead, or the way he seemed to smile, just slightly, in his sleep as she did so. Downstairs, she’d remember with a horrible, soul-crushing cry how she’d spotted Sirius, still dressed and sleeping on the drawing room sofa, an empty bottle of fire whiskey on the floor at his feet. Over and over she would replay the scene of carefully summoning a blanket from one of the spare bedrooms and draping it over him; how his face, in sleep, was so like her mother’s, and how vulnerable he seemed to look in the house he hated so much. 

*****

The first Tonks knew of the battle at the Department of Mysteries was the phoenix feather that appeared above the table in the Leaky Cauldron she was sat at with two friends. When it landed, flaming, just by her plate, she immediately knew something was very wrong. She grabbed the feather and the scrap of parchment attached and read Dumbledore’s shaky scrawl.

_Harry and others at Dept of Mysteries. Death Eaters. Order called._

She leapt to her feet so quickly that her chair tipped over and fell with a dull _thunk_ onto the sticky pub floor.

“I have to go,” she said, glancing only briefly at her friends - Persephone Clearwater and Wendy Smith-Jones - before pulling her cloak from the back of her upturned chair and dashing out into the street. 

She apparated to the staff entrance of the Ministry. The night was cool and still, and the London street was mercifully empty. She took the stairs down to the public toilets two at a time, almost slipping on a discarded crisp packet, and leapt, clumsily but successfully, into the first toilet bowl. Before pulling the chain she readied her wand, but when she appeared seconds later in the Foyer it was as deserted as the street above. She stepped out of the fireplace cautiously, eyes raking wide circles, seeking out any immediate threats with textbook thoroughness. 

“Tonks!” The voice in her ear made her start and she spun, wildly, finding herself face to face with Mad-Eye. “Always had a weak spot on your left side, girl,” he said gruffly, then “the others are coming.”

Sure enough, within a few moments Sirius, Remus, and Kingsley appeared in the fireplaces, all looking as anxious and stern as Tonks felt. She didn’t question Sirius’s presence; she knew that nothing would have stopped him coming for Harry if Harry was in danger. Together, they crossed the Foyer and quickly descended to Level Nine. 

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Tonks whispered as they stepped out of the lift and began up the corridor towards the ominous black door. 

Tonks was between Kingsley and Remus; Sirius was several paces ahead, with Mad-Eye behind them.

“He’s on his way,” Mad-Eye replied brusquely, “Slow down, Black!” 

Sirius had reached the door and was already pushing it open. He turned back to shoot Mad-Eye a furious look, and Tonks noticed how alive he looked in that moment - dark eyes flashing in the flickering light, his face flushed and slightly damp with sweat. 

Despite spending what felt like half her waking life traipsing up and down the corridor outside, Tonks had never actually been inside the Department of Mysteries. She was a little disappointed when she slipped in past Sirius and found herself in a dark room which, other than having many doors, was exceptionally ordinary.

“Which door?” Kingsley said, just as there was a shuddering, horrifying scream that pierced the air like dragon’s fire. 

“One of these.” Mad-Eye said, stepping towards the pair of doors that the sound had seemed to come from. 

They had barely a moment to think before Sirius wrenched open the nearest door and threw himself through it. Immediately, the noise of the battle was all around them, and Tonks launched herself through the open door too, Kingsley beside her, Remus and Mad-Eye a few steps behind. 

The room they fell into was cavernous, almost like a theatre, with steep steps descending to a platform upon which stood an empty, haunting archway. It was also filled with Death Eaters. Without thinking, Tonks sent a stunning spell straight at Lucius Malfoy, which missed by inches; then she was fighting and sprinting down the steps, aware of Remus beside her and Mad-Eye somewhere to her left. She made it halfway down the steps before she spotted Bellatrix, who turned, her eyes wild and terrifying, and made straight for Tonks. Tonks threw herself aside as a killing curse soared over her. Bellatrix was cackling, and the sound made Tonks feel sick. She dragged herself up and they began to duel. Bellatrix was an undeniably brilliant witch. Her spells were accurate and breathtakingly fast, and Tonks had to duck out of the path of three more killing curses within a matter of seconds. The noise all around her was thunderous, and she couldn’t see Remus anymore, or Mad-Eye, but she could hear Sirius’s panting grunts as he fought a stocky, masked Death Eater a few paces away from her. The last she heard before Bellatrix’s spell hit her was Sirius’s voice, loud and sure in her ear, telling Harry, “Nice one!” Then darkness enveloped her and she was falling, endlessly.

*****

It was Remus who told her. 

She woke on Saturday morning in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, enveloped in fresh white sheets and surrounded by a long, thick curtain. Remus was asleep in the chair beside her, but he started and blinked blearily when she sat up.

“What’s happened? Is everyone okay? I can’t remember-”

Remus didn’t cut her off, but she stopped talking when she saw his face. It was pale, and broken. Everything about him was broken. His shoulders, usually so broad and strong, seemed folded in on themselves, and he was slumped in the chair - not, she realised, because he was tired, but because he was empty. 

He cleared his throat, but when he spoke his voice was scratchy and rough.

“Harry and the others are safe. The prophecy was destroyed,” he said, then, so quietly she almost didn’t hear him, “Sirius is dead.”

Everything seemed to come crashing down. Tonks made a noise, a tiny, hopeless noise that sounded as though it had come from someone else. She replayed the scene from yesterday morning in her mind; saw herself as though in a dream draping the blanket over Sirius. She thought of his easy laugh and the desperate, sinking depressions he would often fall into. She remembered how Remus would look at Sirius sometimes, as though he couldn’t believe Sirius was really there, and how she could almost feel the bond between them, palpable and visceral despite the dreariness of Grimmauld Place. 

She wanted to scream and cry and yell into the silence of the Hospital Wing, but instead she reached out her own clammy hand and took Remus’s. He was looking at the floor, tears running unbidden down his ashen face. They sat like that for many moments. When Dumbledore arrived, magenta robes flowing around his ankles as he pulled back the privacy curtain, Remus snatched his hand out of hers and wiped the tears from his face quickly. 

It didn’t take Dumbledore long to explain what had happened. Tonks sat mutely and listened as he told them of Kreacher’s deception, of the capture of Macnair and Malfoy and others, of Voldemort’s escape and, finally, of Sirius’s death. 

“This means, of course,” Dumbledore said when he’d finished, “that Grimmauld Place is no longer safe to use as headquarters. I took the liberty of collecting your belongings before we vacated,” he flicked his wand and two suitcases appeared beside him, one brown and battered, the other bright blue and covered in stickers. “but I’m afraid neither of you will be able to return. There are beds here, if you should wish to stay with Tonks, Remus. Nymphadora, Poppy tells me you will need to stay until tomorrow at least. That was a nasty curse Bellatrix used.”

Tonks nodded, dumbly. The casual, kindly way Dumbledore was talking made her want to scream. She dug her fingernails into her palms. Beside her, Remus sat a little straighter in his chair.

“I need to speak with you, Dumbledore,” he said, and Dumbledore raised a hand.

“In time, Remus. For now, rest, both of you.”

Then he was gone, robes flapping about his ankles as he swept from the room. 

*****

Tonks stayed another night in the hospital wing. Her parents came to visit that evening, and Tonks was finally allowed to tell them everything about the Order. Andromeda seemed sternly proud and Ted cried, gripping Tonks’ hand and squeezing so tightly that her fingers went numb. When she told them about Sirius, she thought she saw tears in her mother’s eyes, but it could have been the light. Remus left to see Dumbledore during this visit, and returned long after they had gone.

Ron and Hermione were in the hospital wing too, and Umbridge. Tonks played exploding snap with Ron and let Hermione and Ginny braid her hair. Remus slept in the chair by her bed. When Madam Pomfrey came to check on Tonks he hovered anxiously over her, as though he was terrified she would suddenly waste away or succumb to the curse. 

“She’ll be fine, Remus, really.” Poppy told him, reassuringly, but he only seemed to believe it when Tonks was released on Sunday.

“I have to go and see Dumbledore again,” Remus told her, as they left the Hospital Wing and made their way towards the Entrance Hall. 

His voice was tight and low, and when she glanced up at him he looked tense. He had said very little to her since she’d woken up, and despite his obvious worry about her health he had been distant and rather cold towards her.

“Okay,” she replied, “I told Seph I’d be at the flat by ten. I’ll see you tomorrow morning?”

She hated how formal the words sounded, how ordered and neat they seemed. As though they hadn’t spent the last year living together, as though they hadn’t just lost their best friend and the closest either of them had to a brother. Grief, ever present, washed over Tonks, and from the clouded look in Remus’s eyes, she knew he felt it too. 

“Okay.” He said, then, “I need to- we need to talk.”

Before she could reply, he was gone, heading back up the corridor, shoulders slumped, eyes cast down to the floor. 

*****

Persephone helped her move her things back into her flat. There was very little to unpack, just her clothes and books and some cutlery. The landlord had clearly rented the place out to muggles while she’d been at Grimmauld, because they’d left a kettle and a toaster and several strange wires and plugs. When Persephone left in the early evening, Tonks climbed into her old bed, slid under her new sheets, and cried. 

Again and again she saw Sirius’s peaceful, sleeping face from the previous morning, heard his infectious laughter and his teasing, infuriating voice as though he were next to her. She thought of Remus, too. Her heart seemed to be breaking for both of them, shattering into thousands of sharp pieces in her chest. The night wore on. Dawn was coming, and with it, Remus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouch. This hurt to write.  
> One chapter left.


	20. Autoclave

_Hand me your hand, let me look in your eyes_

_As my last chance to feel human begins to vaporize_

_Maybe it's the heat in here, maybe it's the pressure_

_You ought to head for the exits, the sooner the better_

_I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam_

_And no one in her right mind would make my home her home_

_My heart's an autoclave_

Autoclave, The Mountain Goats

He came just after sunrise. He was still in the clothes he’d been wearing yesterday, and so was she. They sat on the threadbare sofa, and sipped lukewarm tea as though it were the only thing keeping them alive.

“I’m going away,” he said, finally – _finally_ _–_ breaking the silence.

Tonks took another sip of tea. Her hand was shaking. She said nothing. 

“Dumbledore’s asked me to-”

“Don’t lie to me, Remus,” she said, cutting him off, “you can break my heart, but don’t lie to me.”

He blinked at her, swallowed audibly and said, “I have to, Tonks.”

The sound of her last name in his mouth made her stomach lurch violently. 

“There are things that have to be done, now that the war has started properly.” He continued, setting his mug down on the coffee table.

“Where are you going?”

“I can’t say.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“I don’t know.”

“I love you.”

She hadn’t meant to say it, really. She’d meant to shout at him, or perhaps curse him, even; maybe she still would. But when she looked at him and saw how broken and empty and _small_ he was, she realised she understood. He would leave because he had to; because theirs was a love born out of war; because really, they’d been on borrowed time ever since that first kiss in the courtyard garden of Grimmauld Place. 

Remus’s voice floated back to her from one of the strolls they’d taken down on the Thames foreshore months ago.

_The pain of losing the people you love, it’s the risk one takes, Tonks._

And oh, how she loved him. She loved him with such an intense ferocity that it scared her, threatened to overwhelm her and encompass her. And she knew he loved her too, even if he wouldn’t say it now. Even if he would spend the next fifteen minutes telling her that he was a monster who had no right to love, that he should never have let her fall for him, that she was better off without him. 

“We should never have done any of this,” he said, now, and she almost smiled at how predictable he was. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” 

She turned on the sofa and kissed him, hard. He let her. She could taste Earl Grey and the salt of tears, though she wasn’t sure which of them was crying. He pulled away after several moments, and she wiped her cheeks, feeling the cool stain of tears against her skin.

“He was all I had left,” Remus said, quietly.

“I know.”

“I can’t lose anyone else.”

“I know. I love you.” This time she meant to say it, and the words stuck in her throat, coming out strained and jagged.

“I know,” he said, paused, then, “you’ll find someone else. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

“I want you.”

“It’ll pass.”

Oh, that was the knife. Feeling as though someone had punched her, hard, in the chest, she collapsed back against the rough fabric of the sofa. She wanted to yell at him, again, to scream at him and hit him and maybe even curse him. 

“You’re an idiot.” She said.

“So Sirius often tells me,” he replied, and they looked at each other, great waves of grief rising up and crashing down over them.

She asked him to hold her, and he did, cradling her as though she were glass that might shatter under the lightest pressure. He kissed her, softly, under the enchanted fairy-lights Persephone had hung from the ceiling, and she underdressed him and then herself. They made love slowly in the mid-morning sunlight. Tonks traced the familiar patterns of scars on Remus’s chest, pressed her palm hard against the bones of his ribs and felt the pounding of his heart, tried to remember how his eyes looked in the midst of their passion, how his face flushed when she kissed him, how _alive_ and _close_ he was in those moments. 

Afterwards, when he rose from the bed and dressed in silence, she didn’t try to stop him. As he tied his shoelaces he said with stuttering magnificence, “I have to go, Dora. This war is bigger than both of us,” and she smiled, sadly, and told him she loved him.

Outside the door, he turned to her and paused.

“Don’t wait for me.” He said, “Promise me you won’t wait for me.”

“I love you,” she told him, again, and then she shut the door. 

She heard his footsteps as he walked away, and then he was gone. The fairy lights above her flickered and sputtered out, and when she looked in the mirror later, her hair was brown, her eyes empty. 

_When I try to open up to you I get completely lost_

_Houses swallowed by the earth, windows thick with frost_

_And I reach deep down within, but the pathways twist and turn_

_And there's no light anywhere, and nothing left to burn_

_And I am this great, unstable mass of blood and foam_

_And no emotion that's worth having could call my heart its home_

_My heart's an autoclave_

Autoclave, The Mountain Goats

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that's the end of this part.   
> Thank you all so, so much for reading, and for all the comment and kudos. Writing this has brought me so much joy (well, apart from the last two chapters) and I'm so grateful that people have read and enjoyed it too.   
> I am going to continue into HBP, but I have a few One Shots that I want to write and post first, so that might not be for a few weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> The title of this fic is from a song of the same name by AJJ.
> 
> Also, trans rights are human rights.


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